


There and maybe not back again

by Valdyr



Series: The Sinda & the Jotunn [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Jotunn!Loki, Loki is hermaphrodite, Loki vs Smaug, M/M, Post-Thor, Semi-explicit sex, Shapeshifting!Loki, and a slut, but uses it as means to various ends as well, especially later on, maybe even explicit then, no Avengers component, when it aids him, yes indeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 74,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valdyr/pseuds/Valdyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The company is just captured in the Misty Mountains, but in the goblin town there is a strange exhibit. A man ? The king says, he fell from the sky half dead and was meant to be sold to Azog as plaything, now along with Thorin. Yet the half dead was resting and upon Gandalf's arrival escapes with them. He is not trusted immediately, but comes along and aids them with feats of magic, ever increasing especially Gandalf's concern. For Loki's motives are elusive to them at best and his power more so. Whereas Loki himself is delighted at the feel of the mighty ring nearby and dozens upon dozens of chances at causing mischief and chaos, until he meets the greatest of beauties in one Elvenking and dangerous fascination in one stupendous dragon. And that only complicates who to choose, or to go home where he never belonged before and if so, how ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down in Goblin Town

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's my first fanfiction ever and I'm not an English native speaker, but I promise to try hard. I am, however, also studying right now and kind of busy, but I always hated waiting myself; so... if anyone cares, I hope to update weekly.
> 
> Also:  
> Disclaimer: While Loki is owned by none (a norse deity can't be owned and Loki least of all), (t)his particular background story belongs to Marvel, whereas characters, objects, places and background&basic story of The Hobbit belong to Peter Jackson, I guess, or someone anyway who is just not me.

The stench of them was everywhere, as were their flailing limbs in that sickly skin. Abominations, all of them. But nothing compared to their 'king'. Thorin almost retched at the sight, but something in the corner of his eye distracted him. It was Kili, nudging Fili. Then both stared.

At the side of the 'throne room's' central platform there was a pillory and in it a ...man ? Perhaps an elf ? Long raven hair hid the ears, but among all the disfigured freaks that tall, lean, long-legged person seemed to radiate. His or her - for the wild hair and a strange green tunic hid that as well - pale skin nearly shimmered in the weak light. But how would any human or elf end up here ?

He sure would wish it on neither - indeed, not even an elf, the goblin king was just gross and likely barbaric as well - but it had happened. And it kept him wondering despite the goblin's insult. He should probably listen more closely, it might be important, but his eyes wouldn't leave the still body in the pillory.

  
"Yes, our fallen star will accompany you." Oh, the goblin had noticed. And, what ? Accompany him, why ? Wait, there was just something about a bounty on him... "I was going to send him to my dear Gundabad friend, he likes curiosities to play with, but now I have you as well. He has been looking for you for a while, you know. An old enemy of yours. A pale ork on a white warg."

No. It was a lie. Now, that did distract him. For it was a ruse. The Defiler was dead ! Long dead ! Not even his company'y turn to fear at the approaching instruments of torture could spoil his anger. Only Gandalf's flashy shock wave managed that. But that managed other things, too. When all the goblins were thrown back and the dwarves grabbed their things, the pillory moved as well. With a mighty crunch it splittered apart and its former prisoner sped through the dizzy goblins. Gandalf moved to block him, yes him, even though he looked suspiciously androgynous, in question "And who would you be ?", but was convinced at the reply "Someone of no desire for recapture. And since our - may I assume - mutual enemy is rising again, I suggest we postpone introductions until safe again ? Might that be acceptable to you ?"

  
Together they ran off, Thorin pondering the smooth voice of the now confirmedly non-elven stranger and Gandalf worrying about more than just the goblins, but more urgently about those. Through the twising pathways they had to fight to run. The stranger, however, did not fight all that much. Lithe and agile he avoided any hit, but never dealt any.

Then, they all had to stop. That ugly king was back. And there he saw the stranger perhaps a fighter yet. As the king spoke, the stranger's hand moved behind his back and his right drew from the sleave of his left a little weapon. A dagger. He gripped it by the blade as if preparing to throw it, but was preceded by Gandalf and the dagger disappeared again. Thorin would remember, though. If ever their enemy was not mutual but each other, he would find that most useful to know.

Now he would rather have known how to fly, because that was one bumpy ride down the rock side. Groaning all around him. His fellows were just as displeased as himself. The stranger stood on feet as light as feathers, not even his clothing chafed or so much as ruffled, really.  
He was almost mystical. That was suspicious. But the horde of goblins held more urgency. He would know more about the stranger, but now they had to run for daylight. Past the hiding and the invisible and finally out, where the goblins would not follow.

Unaware, that discussing their latest addition would have to wait again due to one very much alive orc.


	2. There are no men like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki meets Bilbo. And Azog. But the company also gets to know him a bit better and especially one of his powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and sorry, this was supposed to be in that first now quite short chapter and I just noticed its absence. That also means that it doesn't count as update.

Oh, he'd known dwarves before and if Brokk ever came near him again, he would pay for his misdeeds in screams, but he was not prejudiced.

Well, he actually was, but not entirely against them. The dwarves he'd known before had been a people of craftsmanship and that belt buckle of the leader dwarf, Thorin Thrainson as the fat king had said, looked just as expensive as it looked stunning. His own attire was somewhat lacking since his fall and capture. To be ntirely honest, however strange that may seem for the infamous Lie-Smith, it was just plain pitiful. So even if he was not overly fond of dwarves, he would not throw away a chance at their potential treasures because of a memory. He had lost his home because of it, but his stay at the goblins' had cleared his head about that. Those little monsters had deserved death, but they were nothing like him. He would never disappear in a mass, but always stand out. Even if he was a monster, he was one of a kind. Not some Jotunn, but Loki.

Being Loki, he felt it before anyone saw anything. The dwarves and the strangely magical older one were just discussing someone missing and Thorin ranted in typical dwarf fashion, when something neared. It seemed familiar. He had felt it for a moment when running out. Now it stayed for longer and he was certain, it was magic. Great magic, if a bit dark for his taste. He looked exactly where the feeling came from and his superhuman ears picked up a slight gasp. What he felt was either sentient then or used by a sentient being. He chuckled inwardly: If there was a sentient being involved, then he could manipulate it.

So he narrowed his eyes at it, but let them drift ever so slightly, until he was looking somewhere else. The feeling moved to the other side then. It didn't want to be seen, but didn't know it was being felt. It thought it had successfully avoided him. A mage such as himself would know that magic of such power could be sensed even when not seen. So it must be a being of no or lacking knowledge about magic, using a mighty tool of magic that it probably couldn't even value properly. Those were the easiest. They never realised what they had and sometimes traded it far below its worth. The grey one might know, however. Perhaps he had even gifted the missing one, returning now, that artifact to protect him in his absence. In that case, aquiring it could become a bit more difficult. He'd have to watch them closely before he took action. For it had to be the one they talked about. This didn't seem like a place bearing many friends of theirs and an enemy would not have gasped at being looked at, but either attacked immediately or silently held still to hide himself rather than be shocked.

A little while later he finally showed himself. An also small but not dwarven creature with fuzzy, bare feet. He'd never seen the like, but it, he, at first ignored him as well. Then he held a heartbreaking monologue about home, both giving Loki much desired information about the dwarves and their journey and making him want to throttle him. In the goblin cave he had managed to mostly focus on freeing himself, but the question had kept sneaking into his mind. With the Bifrost broken and crash-landed into a world he knew nothing about, how could he ever get home ?

 

But another interrupted them even before Loki became the topic of discussion, as growling speech drifted down from a hill and the barking of horse-sized wolves followed. The others panicked and started climbing the trees almost at once, but he was good with wolves, he knew that. Odin's ravens, Hugin and Munin, might have been critical of him and often spied him out, but his wolves, Geri and Freki, never looked at him the wrong way. They had run into battle by Sleipnir's side to often to dislike the eight-legged stallion's dam. He had a son in shape of a giant wolf and these would have hardly reached Fenrir when he was only just entering into adolescence. Then again, they seemed somewhat stupid and stupid things often hated him.

He climbed after the dwarves then, just to be safe, although the wizard was eying him even more suspiciously for his hestitation. Luckily, he had to look away again, when the great wolves started jumping up the trees and tearing at them, very nearly and then indeed uprooting the first ones. Unfortunate. But the grey one had an idea. Not the greatest idea to Loki. They were sitting on a tree and setting fire on the ground below it. Not ideal. But one of the dwarves got his attention and tried to give him a burning pine nut. He'd never liked the summer sun, nor bonfires or any kind of heat, really. Now knowing it was because he was of frost only confirmed to him that he really shouldn't touch something aflame, so he violently shook his head and earned he very displeased look. They likely thought him a coward. That was nothing new. But he was already light-headed from the fire closeby and came dangerously close to dropping from the branch unconscious.

Then the tree tilted. Oh great ! They were hanging from it, nearly falling into the abyss below and he had really had enough of that. But something was suddenly wrong with Thorin. He fixated on one of the wolf riders. They looked a bit like the goblins, but not quite and he remebered the goblin's words. A pale orc an a white warg. An orc then, for it was pale and its wolf had white fur. Though big wolves appeared to be called wargs here. His all-tongue magic allowed him to understand them, but race names had no translation, so he had to assume it. And he had to watch, because which leader won this duel could decide his future here. He had a thought that it was not a fair duel with one dwarf fighting both an orc and a warg, but since Thorin ran forth, he apparently accepted the conditions as they were. He shouldn't have. Typical. Proud beings usually lost due to an overestimation of their own prowess. He himself had learned that the hard way and picked his battles more carefully since. Thorin might never learn, because those jaws looked strong. And yes, he was basically dead now.

Oh, but the hobbit intervened. And he had a nice, glowing shortsword. Was that the artifact ? No. Magical, but neither as powerful nor as dark. And it would not save him now. A good weapon might me a great asset, Thor proved that time and again with Mjolnir, but it couldn't make up for such a lack of experience. Yet, if the hobbit was killed by the orcs, his artifact might be lost with him. Now that was something  Loki could not let happen. And he unleashed his magic.

 

He was kind of lost now and begging for some flash of wit to save him here. His friends were about to fall to their death and a pack of wargs about to rip him apart. He absolutely had to think of something now. Now. NOW PLEASE. But then, out of nowhere, a huge black horse galloped in and jumped at the wargs hoove-first with all its weight. The crunching of breaking bones had him wince. He had never imagined a horse that dangerous, but the equally puzzled wargs howled, as kicks of those strong legs to all sides broke out their teeth, ruptured their ribs and crushed their toes. Whining and limping they backed away, but were not defeated. No, the horse had given him a chance to mount it and pull up Thorin, so they could escape. Yeahh, well... Its size helped it fight, but it didn't help the hobbit climb up. The horse turned to stare at him in irritation, but what could he do ?

Then there was a screech overhead. An eagle ? Eagles indeed ! They fought the wargs and orcs for good and carried his friends out of the danger. But the horse they avoided, even when instead of a horse there was the strange man again who had almost seen him despite the ring. They would not near him. He'd saved him and he tried to tell the eagles, but he was only jolted around and found himself on an eagle being flown away. Thorin was with them, albeit unconscious. Hopefully just that. But his saviour was nowhere to be seen. Except... The last eagle was not like the others. It was no eagle. More like a buzzard, or a falcon ? Something like that. He couldn't be sure at the distance, but it was definitely no eagle. Like the horse perhaps ! He could follow them, even when no eagle took him. Thank goodness, he would have felt aweful, if all their thanks to him had only ever been abandonment. Now he'd have a chance to voice his gratitude and offer recompense.

They flew far, but finally landed on a rock. The eagles flew off again without hesitation, but he was ready to drop. His arms were not used to that kind of strain. And he even got a chance to catch his breath without wild questions about his shape-shifting, as they all worried more about Thorin. He woke up again though and had interesting words for the smaller one, hobbit, he'd said before the warg attack. Oh, sweet, now they hugged and he was noticed. "Now, I think we have time. Who are you ?!"-"Wait, Thorin. He's not evil. He saved me, actually. You were lying there and everybody else clinging to the tree, he saved me. He stood before me and fought them off until the eagles came. I, perhaps both of us, would be dead now, if not for him." The hobbit's words appeased the dwarf somewhat, but not the wizard:"That is true. It was a great feat of magic to change into that horse and fight them. But changing into the falcon also brings us to another question. There are shifters who can change between one form and another, one even lives close by. But what you did was not inbred. You can shift into any form you like and that is powerful magic. So who and especially what are you, looking like an ordinary man ?"

The mention of his shape-shifting had all the dwarves' brows up and their mistrust as well. But he was not afraid and replied calmly:"Oh, wizard, there are no men like me. I am Loki and where I come from I am both feared and prayed to. Depending on the occasion. But what I am would not mean anything to you. Our races exist only in our realms, as yours are strange to me. An accident brought me here and I don't know how to return. So I am without purpose in this foreign world and seek one for lack of things to do. If you would allow me to join you and make your purpose here mine too, I would aid you with all I have. My payment shall be the occupation exitement of the jouney, no more. The only treasure I have ever sought in my life were knowledge and further skills. No other tempts me to fight over it."

It was always about treasures, when dwarves were concerned, greedy folk. And his words were appreciated. He was not trusted. But Thorin allowed his continued presence and intoduced everyone. They seemed happy about his addition. Well, if thirteen dwarves with help of a hobbit and a 'wizard' wanted to reclaim a mountain from a dragon, then they could use all the help they could possibly get. And he did manage to distract the only critical pair of eyes on him, being that of the wizard, by such an innocent question as "That lonely mountain you mentioned. It would not happen to be that one over there, would it ?" Thy stared and were amazed. Even though they obviously had no idea on what exactly a raven looked like. But funnier yet was the hobbit. The worst behind them ? Journeying to find a treasure that a dragon sat on, it most certainly wasn't. But the little one's naivity would only make things easier for him.


	3. About concerns and conception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two shape-shifters meet and Loki considers leaving the company, for a time... propably just for a time, but perhaps ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have officially entered DoS now and shall further explore it until around chaper eight of my admittedly vague plan for this story. Just look out for 'Ever the Fathers' as last chapter before BoftA, from where the AU gets even AU-ier. (I don't like Thorin dying, or Kili, or Fili, in that order, not descriminating blondes, though. Would be strange of me of all people. And its my natural hair colour, I'd never dye it. My mother once dyed her hair bright blond to annoy someone than a week later dark russet over that and her shampoo thrown in as well made the cocktail pink. Not daring to put even more colour on top, she ran around for over a month with pink hair. It was perhaps humiliating, but definitely hilarious and a memorable lesson.) Anyway, I am wandering a bit off topic. Please enjoy my somewhat contorted mind's lastest concoction:

His patience was wearing thin. They had had such a headstart and now they just waited, until the wargs caught up. That ragged pack of dwarves was truly useless. But the wizard wasn't helping, either. He just kept starring at him as if his form held all the secret of the universe. It was not like he could discover anything anymore. Oh, but he could ! The wizard perhaps felt that Loki was wearing a secons skin on top of his own Jotunn one and now tried to look through it. He felt that something was being hidden and wanted to know what it was, but couldn't make it out through the magical veil that Loki had been wearing for most of his life. Now Loki was amused, which made Gandalf all the more sceptical of him.

Finally Furry-Feet – Loki was in a gaming mood and unused to the term 'hobbit' – returned with news. A bit out of breath for that short distance and constantly interrupted he still managed to get those news across and had Loki intrigued, escpecially since Gandalf turned from boringly suspicious to himself mysterious. Then the roar reached them and off they were.

Heavily laden as they were each with armour and baggage the speed of them was impressive, but Loki had no trouble keeping up. His horse form could have outrun the wargs. The hobbit, however, had problems. He was, for one, the shortest with resulting shortest legs, but also least used to running. They had traveled much further before meeting him, whereas he had hardly ever walked more than a day from his home in years, no less run any distance. Thus he fell back.

But now, Loki could feel the earth under his hooves begin to shake just a bit whenever their pursuer touched the ground. He was either huge or still big, but also closing in ! Loki turned on the spot, which almost had him tumbling to the ground from his previous speed and sudden change of direction. Then he galloped back a bit and came to a sudden stop, as a huge black bear broke from the coppice. He got back his bearings on the edge of panic and sped after the dwarves again, the bear approaching. The hobbit was not far and he grabbed him with his teeth in passing, flung the yelping thing on his back and broke his own record in a final sprint, bursting through the gate and leaping over the dwarves just opening the door. The hobbit immediately dropped down then retching, as he skidded to a halt, lest the opposite wall caught him.

The bear was still closing in, though, and just as the dwarves tried to close the door again, it thrust its massive snout into the gap. The dwarves pushed and they shoved, but could not close it, so Loki shooed those in his way to the side with clunking hooves and rose on his hind legs. The bear gained space from the lessened number of dwarves pushing at the door, but just as it shoved its whole head through, Loki hit its nose with both front legs in quick succession and turned in a second to kick the door closed with both his hindlegs at once. The bearhead was flung out and the beast grunted over the hit and sore nose, but the door was barred and the dwarves safe. All their stares had him beam with pride, but doubt was in their eyes and it left him with a sour taste.

After the bear had audibly left, the first dwarf asked what it was. After Gandalf had mentioned a natural born shape-shifter living nearby just on that rock after their eagle rescue and at hearing about another creature from Bilbo asked about its form, before correctly guassing it himself, the answer seemed obvious. But then, dwarves were not exactly known for their wit. Or the brighter dwarves just didn't come on a fourteen-headed mission to slay a dragon. Either way, Gandalf answered, but gave the name as well. Beorn. A strong name. Loki would be delighted to meet him.

And just the next morning, he did. Of course the dwarves messed up Gandalf's well thought-through plan, but it was amusing to watch. They were not what he imagined to be a noble and dignified race, – he had yet to seem them fight and gaze upon the halls of Erebor about that – but they were in a way adorable. Like children almost. They certainly were only children to him by their age. Toddlers really. But even a short life could make for an old soul. Beorn proved that. Gandalf had quite obviously shown what he thought of Loki, when he introduced him and Beorn had been almost consantly looking him over rather intensely ever since, but it was not primarily suspicion. Loki was sure of it. Beorn was thinking something about him unlike whatever Gandalf thought. After a critical breakfast the dwarves were given their ponies and Loki just transformed again, but differently this time.

They could all see it this time, but something was off. Normally, or at least as far as they had seen before, Loki just jumped into the air and within a moment, his head erected from the longer neck of a horse, the long nose and snout shooting out from his face, as his body thickend, arms and legs elongated and a tail burst free, while short black fur sprouted all over his body. It was hardly ever truly visible between the human form one moment and then the horse form the next. This time was not like that. The fur sprouting all over was far longer than usual and shaggy, the neck shorter, there was no forelock and the entire shape of the head was all wrong, the body and legs far too thick. Then, pointed teeth grew beneath a dog's nose rather than a horse's nostrils and he suddenly realised what was happening. It was neither dog nor horse, but a bear that Loki was transforming into.

Oh, they stared again. So easily impressed. Only Gandalf was even unhappier and Beorn something else entirely. He bid them goodbye and they set off to make as much way as they could that day, but come nightfall upon their camp, Loki smelled him again. He transformed back, both because every time he took a form made it easier and quicker for the next time and to get lighter on his feet. He tested the wind, so he could keep downwind and avoid being smelled himself, then cloaked himself in invisibility and sneaked up on him. Them, actually. Beorn was talking to Gandalf. Now Loki was interested. He neared unheard, unseen and unsmelled and listened.

"It cannot be ignored ! The Greenwood is rotten from dark magic, the people talk of a necromancer, a sorcerer of unknown origin and power. Then a sorcerer of unknown but certainly great power appears with nothing known of his origin except that we wouldn't recognise the name and that the goblins think that he fell from the sky. Which is impossible to verify, by the way, since storms had been mantling the tops of the misty mountains for some time, before we came across him. Radagast is in great distress. That poor forest decays and everything inside dies with it, but for the beasts of Dol Guldur, he says."-"The he speaks the truth. I have heard the same and seen some of it as well. But does not have to do anything with Loki."-"That you would trust him, I had not imagined. Does not even your animal side smell anything on him ?"-"It does. Very much so. And unexpectedly of ...him. But that is no concern of yours."-"Not my concern ? I worry about the future of everyone he nears ! How is that strange smell about a threat not my concern then ?"-"Because He does not smell like a He. Loki smells ripe."-"I beg your pardon ?"-"It is the sweet smell of any female approaching her heat. Loki allures my animal side and I am not sure he even knows that himself. But I have been alone for a long time and it is tempting if only for one last time in my animal form. No other but a beast the like of which don't live or a shape-shifter like Loki could survive me as a bear. And as a man it just isn't the same, natural, primal connection. It is no concern of yours, because I long to feel that creature close."

Wow, well that he hadn't known. But now, that he did, he might use it. Gandalf seemed a bit lost there and changed the topic back to rumours and simpletons' opinions. In other words: Loki lost interest.

He returned to his sleeping spot, turned into a bear again and concentrated on – figuratively – hot bodies. The arousal would increase his sweet scent and might in fact get some action later that night. It had been ages for him, too. He was not entirely sure, but it had to be a fair few centuries since he last took. His not father would have flogged him if anyone heard that the younger prince was ergi and people always talked, so his caution had often left him needy. Now there was no need. None from home could see him hear and judge him for the needs that were natural to someone of his race. He was part female after all and Beorn had noticed. And he noticed again as the sweet smell intensified.

Close to midnight, Loki heard deep grunts from behind. He turned his head and stared into the eyes of a huge bear. Beorn wanted to tell him something, but he ignored it. Instead he rose and trotted a bit away from the camp, then looked back at the puzzled bear. He groaned to somehow communicate his consent, but is was little use, so he concentrated on past endeavours of joy, until the beast visibly sniffed. He approached then, yet Loki was still Loki, so he moved as well, away from the other. A noise of surprise answered him and he chuckled, though it sounded strange through his bearish mouth. However, Beorn got the message and followed. Soon they were both running around in a playful hunt, until finally Beorn caught him and threw him to the ground. They tumbled together for a bit, then Loki on his fours held still and Beorn got the hint.

Too long, it had been, the tight fit hurt at first. Or perhaps, Beorn was just big in every way. But pleasure took over soon and Loki basked in the long missed feel of it. Beorn seemed a bit erratic in his rutting. But to get back into it, Loki didn't mind. He planned to have much more of it. With the leader dwarf ? No, Loki liked his males towering over him. Propably a Jotunn trait. Yet the wizard was really not his type. Maybe he met someone else of interest. Oooooh. They were off to face a dragon ! That had to a kolossal partner ! But, damn it, it would not be good for him, if he took too small a form and he couldn't shape-shift into a dragon. He had the knowledge for it, but the energy necessary to assume such a gigantic and naturally powerful form exceeded his reserves even at full capacity by too far. The attempt would not just weaken him, drawing on his life force, once his magic was depleted, it would kill him. A pity but the truth. Well, there had to be other potential partners in this realm. And he could try them all !

But reality drew him back out of his thoughts as his current one's movement went even more ragged and finished. At that a thought shot straight through Loki causing a moment of panic: Due to his long celibacy he had also not had his special contraceptive herb tea in ages and now had had vaginal sex with an animal – of sorts. The last time he'd done that had gotten him Sleipnir. It was chance, of course, but he was never lucky in those cases. The memory of Beorn's previous words calmed him again, a little. He was only approaching heat, so hopefully not fertile, yet. But he definitely had to find his herbs in this strange land or he would not be having much fun before he went thick again.

After berating himself he moved to return to camp, since Beorn was distracted by some smell – that animal. Then he stopped in his tracks. He knew that smell, too ! He sniffed for it, but couldn't figure out where he knew it from. So he looked where it came from, but saw little. He partially shape-shifted into an owl and spotted the origin of the smell. Far away and only just reflecting the moon light there was Azog on his white warg. He was, for some reason, moving his hunting party south east, away from the dwarves. He'd have to find out about it.

At first light they moved on and finally reached the border of the forest, but there was little green about it. So, not for Loki but Bilbo after he'd asked, Gandalf explained it to be called Mirkwood now and that had his mind reeling. 'Mirk' did not mean anything to them. It sounded foul, but they could not have translated it. Yet he knew 'myrkr'. It meant darkness and that forest certainly was dark. But the only way that they knew a word akin to one of his home language, but unlike any of their own, was through previous contact. Perhaps there was a passage somewhere inside, a way home ! He asked lightly where the name came from, but none knew. So he asked further:"When you speak of this forest as being poisoned by dark magic, where would that come from ?" Because the portal would certainly be magical and his answer astounded him "From an old ruin called Dol Guldur. It lies in the south of the forest. Have you been there before ?"-"Not yet."-"I don't recommend it." Gandalf was then drawn to some statue, but Loki didn't watch. His all-tongue magic supplied 'Hill of Sorcery' and his memory that it was exactly where Azog had been headed. He had to go there.

But suddenly – well, he had been deep in thought – Gandalf decided that he had to leave. His horse was not even unsaddled by then. Slow dwarves. He had turned back to his usual form in a minute and they were still dealing with their mounts. Whatever. Gandalf left without great explanation and Loki felt unsure as to wether he could leave now as well. He didn't and instead followed the dwarves into Mirkwood, but inside he kept argumenting with himself that the orcs did not even follow them right now. What could happen in his absence ? Thorin gave him certainty then. He ranted and ranted on about foul magic tricking his mind and Loki had had enough of that in his life. He yelled at the hobbit to keep an eye on the children and changed form to a falcon that rose over the trees and headed south.

He had to go to Dol Guldur.


	4. Hive of Sulliedness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Gandalf sees for himself that the tombs of the nine are empty and the company loses their orientation in Mirkwood, Loki investigates Dol Guldur for the possibility of a portal home and the reason for Azog to go there, away from the dwarves he had previously hunted. But what he sees is far more than that and he himself is seen as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, look what one prof getting sick for two weeks does to my writing activity ! (I actually like him and feel a bit sorry, but hey, it's additional free time.)  
> More notes at the end of the chapter, for A Reason ! Well, you can look of course, but they contain spoilers for the chapter. And sort-of spoilers for the future of this story, but so do the tags. Just read at your own risk.

The fortress itself was easy so see from the distance, towering over all the trees. But even right in front of it there was nothing to be seen inside. Loki was certain that someone had to be there. Azog and his hunting party at least, but all was empty and silent. He tried his magic to scan for life forces and there he found the explanation. The entire ruin was covered with a magical veil hiding its possibly hundreds of occupants.

To be able to perceive them he would have to break the spell, but he knew the kind. His rooms back home were constantly under several layers of such spells. Knowing them well he was certain that he could break this one, too. The problem with such a head on approach was just that, knowing the spell, it might inform its creator of the breach, perhaps even the first scratch at it and Loki didn't want to be found out before he even entered.

The only way to perceive what was hidden without breaking the hiding spell, however, was to trick the spell into including him into those hidden. The orcs inside had to see each other for organisation's sake, so the hiding spell required a second spell by its creator capable of negating the first. The first would just hide all within the ruin, their shadows, footsteps and all sound from them, perhaps even their body temperatures, smell and the magical signatures of their life forces. The second one then had to differentiate and allow some to see through the first, others not. That was the one he had to trick. He needed to find out how it distinguished between the groups. After that he could imitate the required attributes and the spell would negate the first for him. That way the first could in a way be broken for him without alerting its creator who then would not set his wargs and orcs on him. Perfect plan.

In theory. When put into action, his plan got complicated. He was already sitting by the entrance for some hours and still at it. The characterisctics that the negation spell scanned anyone entering for were befuddling to say the least. He had already made out the allowance for wargs, but those he couldn't imitate, because the spell checked the mental capabilities as well, propably to keep Beorn's like out.

The second allowance concerned ...goblins ? It tested his resiliance to light. A natural weakness to some here, apparently. Loki knew races that didn't like or didn't take light well, but Aesir and Jotunns didn't belong to them. Instead the Aesir loved the sun and Jotunns minded only its heat, not the light. But he could not exactly transform into one of them. They all bore the signatures of corrupting magic he didn't own or past torture burnt into their very blood. The closest to something he might be able to transform into were orcs, seemingly close to elves for a reason he did not yet know.

Magic could not recognise disfigurements or beauty without pointing at it, since that depended on the creator's personal opinion, so the trait chosen to tell elves and orcs apart was another. One he needed to know. A certain way to tell them apart that was objectively discernable, aha ! The spell tested their blood. It calculated the percentages of light reflected and absorbed. So orcs had notably darker blood ? Whatever. It was difference enough for the spell, so Loki just needed to darken his blood and would be let in. Quite simple, once it was figured out. Odin's beard, the sun had moved halfway across the sky during his investigation and was already starting to disappear behind the horizon ! Much time he needed to make up.

But how could he darken his blood without killing himself ? The spell sure wouldn't fall for a simple illusion. He pondered some and rembered something he had read before. He read a lot. And he was certain, he had read something about Jotunns' blood being discoloured because of a natural antifreezing agent. Some chemicals synthesised by special blood cells to protect their body liquids and flown through flesh from the cold on their skin and outside. He was not certain in what way it was discoloured, but perhaps he was lucky in this. He tried not to think about it too hard, as that still hurt, and changed into his actual true form, then cut with one sharpened nail into his hand. Indeed. Dark purple blood welled out from it. Hand raised he entered the ruin, hopefully it was dark enough. He also tried to imagine being cold, really cold, to get his blood cells to produce more of the darkening ingredients. For a mage such as him, that might work.

With a whoosh the spell went over him, giving him all-body shivers, and the ruin became alight. For a moment, he almost broke down in tears: Even this magic in a different world recognised him for his Jotunn nature as a monster. But he had to be practical, so she shoved the heartache back and focused on Dol Guldur. The flickering light and warmth of torches along with the growling and barking of hordes of wargs flooded the lower levels. There were many. But Loki sought a portal first of all, then Azog. And the portal was highly magical, it would have the most vibrant aura in all the fortress. So he let his sense for magic guide him, where the magic was strongest and beheld something surreal. In the centre of the ruin a wavering blackness hovered in the air, darker even than the night sky above. Power radiated from it at an alarming rate. Whatever that was, it sure was mighty. And it talked to Azog. Loki focused on their strange words and they were translated in his head. Azog had abandoned his hunt by order of that thing. He sent another after them now and himself turned to ready an army for the great plan of overall death.

Yet the moving of the feel of great magic along with the black entity sadly proved that there was no portal in Dol Guldur. He would have felt another magic source. Both questions answered thus he turned to leave. Just something was off. A kind of light scratching coming from the ground and with a start he recognised the sound of clawed paws on stone floor coming from just around the next corner. He bolted to the other side. But that was heard and a warg leapt after him. He sped around corner after corner away from it, but the beast followed, baying at him, calling more. Then, as he came through a narrower doorway in front of a forked junction he pulled up an ice-wall after him to bar their path. He didn't wait, but neither ran, lest they hear him again. So, as they pawed and riders hacked at the slippery wall, Loki walked as quickly as he quietly could.

Had he had their sense of smell it might in fact have worked. But he didn't and just behind the next corner, a great white warg awaited him. Unmoving she had been entirely unheard, but now, a deep and ominous rumble sounded from her chest and she licked a laceration on a big bruise on her snout. A hoove-shaped bruise. She had recognised him, likely from his everpresent smell. Not good. He turned tail and sprinted off again, but she just sped after him and she was quickly catching up. In fact she was almost at him. But the corner gave him a great opportunity and just before rounding it he iced the floor before it over. He ran on then, but the warg slid over the ice and crashed right into the opposite wall. She howled in pain as the wound broke open again and bled afresh.

Her temporary delay did allow Loki to make some way, but his advantage was short-lived. After that howl, every living thing in the fortress knew where he was and they came from all sides. He leapt over gaps and threw ice to avoid their grasps, but they were just too many and in the midst of one jump he was abruptly thrown to the side as a warg rammed him. It wasn't a soft landing and his head and back hurt, but he wasn't dead yet.

He was surrounded, though. Still they waited, then all looked behind him. And he turned to see Azog towering over him. The orc approached and leaned down above him with a wolfish grin, displaying his pointed teeth in joy over Loki's capture. He reached out then, but halted. Loki had heard his name. All of it. And the 'Defiler' part of it hinted at an opening for him. So, when Azog reached for him, he outwardly shape-shifted into an elf.

He knew the light elves of Alfheim and the local dwarves were not too different from the ones he knew, so it could work. And it successfully drew the orc's attention. Then – using his All-tongue – he said in the sweetest tone:"Hallo Azog, I have been waiting to see you again." The creature seemed astounded that he apparently spoke his language, so he concentrated and intensified his arousing scent. The defiler noticed it instantly, but wasn't yet won.

He spoke in his doubt:"You were with Oakenshield. You came to spy !" The rest of them getting agitated and he was losing Azog, so he put it on thick:"Oh dear, you should not think so little of yourself." Azog was successfully confused at that and he worked his greatest bewitchment of no actual magic:"I have truly come for you and it saddens me that I could not stay, when we last met. But I swear I am no ally of that self-important runt Thorin Oakenshield. It was the other. The smaller one that stood before him. He knew of something that I wanted and I had to appear on his side, until I got it. Only now I can be honest and that is why I came. I never liked that stunted dwarf. And if I had ever considered it, certainly not after I had seen you. A giant by comparison and a menacing warrior on his imposing mount. I am sorry that I hurt her, you must have noticed, though, that I never killed any of yours. But then, strong and brave as you both are, it would not have impaired you all that much. Not from what I have heard."

All listened carefully by then and Azog especially. He was interested, flattered even and all the while had that scent in his nose. Loki was getting there. He had to do this right, for he was still surrounded by orcs and some had bows, too. Even if he could leap from out of their midst and turn into a bird to fly away, they could still kill him. Therefore he needed Azog to get him into a more private setting. And he urged him on to that aim:" It was a little while after our first meeting that an older dwarf told me about your and Thorin's past. He said that you killed his grandfather, the dwarf king ! Apparently it took a firedrake to remove that one from his mountain, but even the dragon couldn't kill him. Only you. Tell me, please, how did you do that ?"

And grinning with his chest puffed out he did. He spoke of Moria and of the army of the dwarves, of his battle prowess and his fight with the dwarf king. About decapitating him and swearing vengeance on Thorin. By that time they had both risen, Loki looking the part of hanging on his lips in fascination. He went on about gathering forces from all the lands and his great mission against the dwarves' mountain that he had been chosen to lead. Because he was not just some ordinary soldier. He was a general. And by then he was leading Loki through the ruin, most of the others long scattered.

Loki took care to listen attentively and add all the right comments in the right places. Azog wanted to impress him ever more now. And he talked on about uniting his forces with those of 'Gundabad' and crushing any elves and men in their way and the dwarves in the Iron Hills, too. By which he had shooed away the last following and driven Loki through a door half hanging in its hinges, half non-existent. Detailing his treatment of the house of Durin he set out to carve up Loki's clothing. But Loki stepped away from him and earned a dangerous look from the defiler. So he smiled sweetly and started to strip off his robes himself in the most sensual of ways to tease the orc. Azog grinned, too, then. Loki had won him.

Now he slowly pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his unmarred chest. Unbeknowst to the orc, he stashed his clothes into the same magical pocket, all his weapons and, as he only just noticed on the closer look, the casket that he had admittedly forgotten about were stored in. It was also, where his clothes magically went whenever he shape-shifted, so he didn't rip or lose them and could still use them once he transformed back. Because he didn't want to leave them in this room, once he fled. He had, in fact, no interest in sleeping with the metal-clawed beast.

But that didn't show. Azog watched closely as he opened the fastenings of his trousers, then stepped out of his boots, letting them disappear into his pocket behind himself. After that he ever so slowly edged his trousers down and lent back on the narrow surface, before lifting his long legs and pulling it off entirely. The defiler stared visibly aroused and Loki knew his moment. The trousers stashed as well he just lent back, until the narrow surface of the window sill gave way for a long free fall from which he pulled out again on the wings of his falcon shape. There was even a moment of silence, as Azog figured out what had just happened, before he roared his outrage. But Loki was already out of sight under the cover of the first treetops.

He landed and transformed back then. As bird above the trees they would see him now, so he had to move back north through the forest and for that another form would be better. He just thought about which, when he noticed a strange silvery pattern on one of the tree trunks. A cobweb, yuck, there were spiders around ! That terible place was no hill of sorcery, it was a hive for all things sullied ! But suddenly there was movement. Creatures, many of them, were moving. They were...

Spiders ? They were huge spiders ! And something had attracted their attention and now dozens were swarming out. Looking closely he noticed that the reflections of the moonlight on their webs shivered. No, the webs were moving and that changed their angle to the light source. Something or someone was pulling at the webs. He almost pitied the poor thing, then he realised that however great the forest was and likely full of beast and webs, its natural inhabitants would know better, as they had to be at least somewhat used to the spiders. That meant that the one pulling at these webs almost insistantly was by any chance one of his dwarves. Dear, how thick-headed were they ?! In any case they would need his help, so took a longer moment for an improved result and took the shape of a great stag. He had seen tracks of them in the forest ground, so it should be inconspicious for on-looker of the orcish kind, he gained speed and strength and the antlers would be useful against the spiders.

Fully formed he took off after the oversized arachnids and sursprisingly quickly covered a great distance. That forest was made for stags. And it did not take too long until he heard the dwarfish battle cries. They really were loud. He wasn't. That also allowed him to see the priceless looks on their faces, when apparently out of nowhere a strangely black stag rammed the spider towering over them into a the next tree, even piercing its exoskeleton with his twisting, but pointed horns.

The next spider tried to come from behind, but one of the dwarves – Bofur ? – yelled a warning and Loki tossed his head around, breaking two legs immediately. Then he rose on his hinds for a moment and let himself crash head first into the repulsive thing, putting all his weight into it. The central bodypart cracked and it was dead. Yeah, Loki liked being a stag in Mirkwood. He shattered bodies left and right, but even with the dwarves also killing them, the spiders did not seem to grow any less in their numbers.

Quite the opposite, actually. Ever more were coming and Loki got worried. He tossed his antlered head around wildly to fend them off, but he felt himself starting to tire. He was exhausting himself and he realised that he would not be able to keep his fighting up for much longer. In that unfortunate case he might be forced to transform into a bird and flee. But that might mean the death of the dwarves.

His choice was made for him, when a spider did not approach him from left or right, not from the front and not the back, but by letting itself drop down on him from a branch above him. The exhaustion had clouded his perception and now he felt a terrible sting in his left thigh as deadly mouthparts clanked over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff hanger, but then again, it is kind of obvious that he will make, somehow. And if you were wondering, there will indeed be Loki/Azog later, but the Defiler makes good on his name for it. Do you think that I should raise the rating for that ?  
> Also: Since I could do more in my additional free time, there will still be the planned update on Saturday morning - European time.


	5. Awe at first sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunited company finds itself saved by elves that are, however, not the friendliest hosts to unexpected - dwarven - visitors. But whereas they have a set opinion about the dwarves, Loki is unknown to them and soon meets the - by the dwarfs' description - rumoured Elvenking who treats Loki quite differently from Thorin, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, major ship arriving, but not landed yet. And I should probably say at this point that while I am perfectly alright with both Legolas (it's only logical, it's his home !) and Tauriel (kingdoms don't tend to have just a king, prince and a drunken guard, but a few more people, too) being in the film, I really am with Thranduil on this. You don't like Tauriel ? Wait and see what I do to her in the ominous ending (muhaha). You do like her ? Don't worry, she'll get over it. ...Someday.  
> Also: Sorry, it's been a late morning, noon actually, but I got on with the next chapter and am sure, it won't take another week now. More like half a week. Expect the next update by Wednesday, perhaps even Tuesday.

For a moment there, he almost prayed for his idiot of a not-brother to come save him. Then someone did. The entire spider winced once, then collapsed dead. Unfortunately, that was on top of him. Weighed down and surrounded by spiderparts, mostly legs, he couldn't really see what was going on, but he sure heard it. Arrows whizzed through the air and there were many more heavy slumps of dead spiders on the ground. Something was going on and he saw none of it.

The spiders were finally dying, but to replace them as a problem, elves came. One moment all were fighting the spiders. The next moment they were surrounded with a dozen arrows pointed at them and some elfling aggrendising himself. Great. And he even had the gall to call him a liar and thief. But they were more and better equipped, so he had to let them disarm them. Gladly, they did save Kili. But they could still ruin his quest.

Part of him hoped that his hobbit or one of the wizards knew a way out of this. But the wizards had both left, wait no, one had returned ! In a different shape again, but Loki had returned. Where was he now ? He looked around and asked Bofur who had fought closest to him, but no-one had any idea. And they started calling out.

The Elves were visibly annoyed and wanted to put an end to it. But suddenly, a bellowing sounded. The dwarves jumped on it and called to its origin. That confused Legolas a little. That was the bellowing of a stag, but dwarves didn't appreciate the animals of the forest, usually. He had that looked into. The sound came from under a big spider, so he had it moved and, indeed, a great black stag with sparkling emerald eyes and ivory antlers burst forth.

It was a beautiful animal and for just one moment he thought that he might be able to please his father with it. But the thought died at its root. The poor creature was limping severely. A spider sting had pierced one of its hind legs and the poison was no doubt already in its blood. It was such a waste, for that creature would most likely die from the poison. Tauriel beside him was equally grievous, but the dwarves did not seem overly sad. They seemed expectant. It was just strange, dwarves with a stag ?

He asked then:"How does a company of dwarves come by an animal of the forest ?" Bofur went to answer in defence of their shape-shifting friend, but a silent gesture from Thorin had him halt, reconsider and answer instead:"We took it with us from the Blue Mountains on to carry our stuff, drudge beast, just usual."-"It is not carrying anything."-"To better fight, of course."-"And why not a hog or goat as your people usually have for that ?"-"Now I don't know how many dwarves you've seen in here with hogs or goats, but why don't you sing and dance, being an elf, when I've seen elves do that a lot ?" Now the elf just rolled his eyes and ordered the stag brought along. He feared that it would die, but would not put it out of its misery, unless his father agreed that they could not help it.

Behind his back Bofur asked Thorin where Bilbo was and Thorin answered with the same gesture as before. What the elves didn't know was an advantage over them. And behind him, Loki fought the poison. He needed to shift to heal at his normal rate. The stag would indeed not make it, but he did not dare to give away his shape-shifting ability to the elves, when even the duller dwarves had managed to keep it a secret. And that Bilbo was close was certain. He felt the ring following them.

Once inside he was amazed. Not even Asgard's golden halls could compare to this dream. Safely underground, but still bright with streams of sunlight and fresh with a river running through it down waterfalls tempering the air. And the architecture ! The very stones seemed alive in their almost natural shapes intertwining with the roots of healthy trees. He stared long, but then the group was split up. All dwarves but for Thorin were herded downwards by a red-haired she-elf of some authority and the majority of the guards, likely to some form of dungeon. Thorin was lead straight on by the rest. Perhaps to the king, since he was their leader ? Only he was taken somewhere else. And by the leader of all people. He would have used the idiocy to his advantage, but the spider poison seeping through his flesh kept him from it.

Finally they reached a stable and he was lead into one of the stalls. He would have insulted, but soft mulch cushioned the floor for him and he really needed to rest that leg. He he lay down at once and even tolerated the pity in the elf's eyes. Then the elf closed the stall and left, but he could hear him call something. His magic was busy elsewhere and he could assume the meaning from the context, so he didn't bother with a translation.

Moments later fresh water was filled into his trough and two she-elves entered with herbs. They burnt in his wound, but slight magic came from their singing and aided his healing further. It would not have been enough without Loki's own magic protecting him, but their song sounded beautiful, so he let them. Looking up he saw into the other stall on the opposite side of the aisle. When entering he had seen horse heads in some, but in that one and looking at him, there was a huge light-brown stag with antlers so wide, the animal might get trouble with some doors. But the creature was calm and peaceful. He might actually stay here a while.

Some voice echoed through the hall that sounded a bit like Thorin. He had to be negotiating with the Elvenking. Well, it didn't sound like his diplomacy was going to aid them. But the echo died out and Loki lay down his head again. He was resting comfortably, his magic restoring as his body outwardly succumbed. For one, it made him look weaker which would lead a potential enemy to underestimate him. And second, if he first just held it from his insides, then his magic could build faster and crush it in one go, rather than to fight it with all it had the entire time and leave him technically healed, but drained of energy.

This way was just better, even if it got him pity. And by everyone who passed at that. Even the leader elf again, when he returned. But when that one returned, he didn't do so alone. And he was no longer the leader of the gang. Because he returned with another elf of a dazzling image from the costly gowns over his gorgeous face framed in silken hair like a white golden river up to the high crown on his head. Loki almost gulped beholding the Elvenking, but a stag wouldn't do that, so he just looked. Suddenly he felt self-conscious about his web-matted fur and sickly appearence.

But he shouldn't, for Thranduil was equally captivated by a pelt like the night sky and eyes like gems under almost pearly white horn. It was heart-breaking that the unique creature would have to die. He softly thanked his son that he had gotten the chance to see it alive, then asked him to do it. He couldn't have done so himself and Legolas had come to terms with it the forest. He approached the lying stag and pulled free one of his shortswords.

To his shock the stag's eyes visibly widened at that and the creature tried to stand. In fact it tried to rise on its hinds, but its body failed. It sat instead, but still swung his antlered head at him. Both royals were surprised and shared a look, but the creature still defended itself. Thranduil entered the stall then. One hand risen for a calming effect he gently spoke and saw the tension lessen in the agitated animal's cramping body. Once close enough he lay his hand on the slightly shaking forehead and caressed it.

Then the king whispered:"Forgive me, beauty, but you are leaving this world. Allow me to ease the pain of the parting for you." For this he had applied his all-tongue. When they drew weapons, he should really know what they were saying. By this he was both flattered and a little scared, but he couldn't hold his transformation off any longer. Else they might kill him, once he dozed off and think it mercy. It would be in Loki's opinion as well, if he actually was dying, but he wasn't and they should realise that.

The stag seemed to be thinking, as if he was an intelligent creature. Did he understand his words ? Then suddenly, the animal pulled back. It made Legolas nervous as his father was within he antlers' reach, but Thranduil had seen the look in those eyes. Intelligent eyes showing determination. And then the stag began to glow. Green light washed over its surface swallowing it entirely. Magic at work. Legolas called for guards and Thranduil watched, innerly intrigued as well as suspicious, outwardly masking his emotions. But the light faded again and it left a man with the stags bright green eyes and hair like the night sky, curling down to his shoulders.

He was dressed in black leather and green velvet with subtle golden embroidery, the casual clothing of royalty. And he wasn't just rich or had stolen something precious, he also held himself like a king, despite the barely perceptible hue of sickness still over him. Thranduil stopped the incomming guards with a gesture. This was an injured royal of unknown origin capable of magic in spite of his human appearence and that was his business.

He told the guards to escort him into the royal chambers and give him a chance to bathe, eat something and have a drink. While confused, they did as ordered. The foreigner didn't let any reaction show but for his compliance and a minute smile of amusement at their faces in passing. Legolas was not so controlled. As soon as the guards were out of earshot he had to question his king:"Father, he is a sorcerer of the dwarves ! An enemy who faked an injury to sneak into our home ! Why would you let him into your chambers ?"-"He didn't fake it. Perhaps exaggerated it, but he had indeed been wounded. Even as human he shifted a slim majority of his weight from the injured to the other leg and he couldn't help the limp entirely. Perhaps the magic that transformed him healed him also. Why don't you question the dwarves about him ?" It was unmistakably an order and he reluctantly acquiesced.

The Elvenking's chambers were simply grand. Loki had already bathed and corrected his hair and clothing, then he went to stand by the table with the wine and fruits on it. He would not intoxicate himself before such an important talk, but he had poured a little wine in one of the prepared glasses and swung it around to wet the inside to a higher point in order to make it look like he had. Then he had half-filled another glass to make his no doubt politically experienced dialogue partner of the near future drink some. After that he just ate an apple and some grapes.

A royal for sure. The foreigner, Loki as Legolas had reported him to have been called by the dwarves, appeared in the king's rooms as if he owned them. He was relaxed and confident amidst splendour no commoner ever saw. That one had seen much grandeur in his life and taken it for granted. How the dwarves had come by him, Thranduil could not imagine. But that was not all. Now that he knew Loki to have magic and looked for it, he saw that the strange royal was completely engulfed in it. Perhaps this form was as much pretence as the stag had been.

He had just plucked another grape from the bowl, when he perceived another presence close by. And he was impressed. Not many could get that close to him, before he noticed them. But the train of his cloak on the floor gave the Elvenking away and Loki turned slowly, a nonchalant smile on his face. Just standard for political dealings to him. The Elvenking answered in kind, but approached the bigger armchair by the fruit table and gestured at the other:"Please sit, get comfortable, you are not on the run now." Loki sat, the king following, and acted friendly first of all:"And I am grateful for it. Your guards' aid against the spiders and hospitality towards a stranger exceed my expectations. I am especially grateful to finally be rid of the stench and dirt of the road. You are a kind host, indeed."-"Your dwarvish friends might not agree with you on that."-"I don't tend to share their opinions."-"And how do you tolerate them then ? Thorin Oakenshield can be quite ... obstinate, after all. A family trait, I'm afraid."

At that he had to chuckle, he might like the Elvenking yet:"While I don't know about his family, I can certainly agree with you about him. But his waywardness might gain him a kingdom yet and then you will have to tolerate him as your neighbour also."-"I shall be glad, then, that it will not come to that."-"How so, your grace ?"-"None of those dwarves will leave my prison again, while there is any chance that they will enter Erebor and waken the horror that sleeps in there."

It was a deep pain lacing those words. An old pain. And he noticed at that how the eyes of the Elvenking had gone rigid, caught in a memory, any tiny tremors went through his left side. He looked into it and saw it. The king's left side was veiled in his own magic. Loki respected him some more. Then he magically advanced his sight to peak through it and uncovered scorched flesh. He looked away at once, knowing what he would feel like, if his opposite saw through the veil over his own true form. The elf was hurt enough, he would not aggravate his pain any more.

"I myself have never met a dragon in person and still doubt that I would return to one I had successfully escaped from."-"Why would you accompany them then ?"-"I have nothing to lose, what would stop me ?"-"How does an obvious royal and of such gifts of magic have nothing to lose ?"-"Because all I ever had, material and sentimental both, it lost to me, already. Well, it is rather I who is lost to them." The king hesitated at that and stared at him intensely:"You look like a human, but with the grace of the Eldar, the magic of the Istari and an age unknown to me. You must be older than men and dwarves could reach, but you are not ageless, if I am not mistaken. Still that does not solve the mystery of your being, but I am certain: You are not of Endor. Where do you come from and what are you ?"

He was just a bit confused. His all-tongue was great, just not so with names. He got a feeling more than a translation. Endor was a ...land mass ? The continent they were on ? Or perhaps the planet ? In any case, he was not from it. So he put it plainly:"You speak the truth, Elvenking. I am by blood Jotunn and my kind live in a world called Jotunheim after them, but I myself come from Asgard, home world of the Aesir, a related race, however much both like to consider each other savages."-"How do you come from another world than your own kind, especially when they are not allied ?"-"The Jotunn and Aesir are far more than just not allied. A fragile truce alone keps them from open war. But that did not hinder my up-bringing, it supported it." The king only raised his eye-brows in question and Loki concluded:"I as a prince of Jotunheim, but was raised as a ward in the enemy court of Asgard."

He was shocked to say the least. Such a 'ward' was really just a highborn child prisoner of war. Growing up as royalty was no the easiest. Kings often seemed cold fathers, because most of their care and attention had to be devoted to their realms and every prince and princess had to show exemplary behaviour. Playing was not the usual for a child of royalty, no matter the age; instead came the constant watch of the public eye and many responsibilties from early on. But growing up as a ward was worse.

Because a ward had to act just like a prince, but was without parents and instead surrounded by enemies. Thranduil commiserated the foreign prince and looking him over again was certain that he could not be much older than his son. Closer to his son than himself at least. The poor child, but this specific up-bringing would also have taught him both surviving as an outsider in enemy environment like a rogue predator and in-depth knowledge of political mechanisms and machination. It made him more dangerous.

There was a shift in the king's perception of him. He saw it in his eyes. And a part of him was very pleased. The Elvenking would to regard him more carefully now. What he had said was not entirely true, but the easiest explanation and he had felt like an outsider most of his life with enough enemies in court to fill a screed. That he had not seen it coming was almost embarrassing. But the elf refocused on something else now:"When you say 'lost to them', how do you mean that. Did you have friends and now no longer contact ?"-"It was the queen who first taught me magic as a child, we were close. But yes, I have entered this world unwillingly and do not know how to go back from here. Forgive me that I cannot go into great detail. But it is a hurtful story of personal loss and still fresh to me."

The Elvenking – of course – wanted to ask more, but acquiesced for diplomacy's sake:"I understand that. But might I know, how long you have been here, if it is still that fresh ?"-"I fear I saw no sun to count the days in the first time after my arrival, but it would have been ...a few weeks perhaps."-"What kept you from the sun ?"-"Goblins. In a mountain chain west of here."-"The Misty Mountains, most call them. How did you escape such hordes as must dwell in there ?"-"As annoying as they can be, the dwarves, dear Elvenking."-"Please. Only dwarves adress an elf as simple 'elf'. I am Thranduil Oropherion."-"And I Loki Laufeyson, king Thranduil."-"You have also met my son Legolas who lead you inside."-"Your son ? I had thought there was a resemblance of some degree, but was not convinced. Then again, no lesser could have gotten away with such behaviour towards a king."-"Which in specific ?"-"Well, had the crown prince of Asgard questioned his king in a public space, even if he thought none close enough to hear, he would have regretted that dearly."

Now Thranduil was all ears. They were talking common tongue as most did, so Loki would understand him. But that had been spoken in their own tongue, so Loki wouldn't. Now it appeared useless. I fact, Loki did not appear to even have noticed the switch. But how would one just understand a foreign language without even realising that it was one. He had to test then and switched languages again:"Legolas is competent as a warrior and leader. His occasional disregard for me has to be expected of someone of his age." And indeed, Loki was not bewildered by the change, he just pondered the content and then grew doubtful realising that he had somehow been tested. But he just understood without reacting to the change.

That could only be magic. How powerful did he have to be to shape-shift and understand all languages with his magic ? One thing alone was certain now: Thranduil did not want him for an emeny. What he did want him for, was less clear again. Part of him knew. The part that lost himself in the gemlike eyes and wanted to know what the rosy lips on that snow white skin felt like. Honest with himself, he had been smitten even by the stag he first saw. His more humanoid form simply offered more intense ways of exploring that. But he could not let himself be distracted so. He needed to focus to secure Loki as political ally. Howeeeever, those ideas did not have to be mutually exclusive, did they ?

Loki could almost see that mind at work. Something was going on in Thranduil's head, he knew. Then, the steaming concentration seemingly dissolved and Thranduil spoke blithely:"He will clear his head. Legolas, I mean. It is the captain of the guard, Tauriel. He wants her and she has not yet acknowledged that it any way. Perhaps I should talk to her about it... My point is that he is simply edgy in unrequieted lust. You will have gone through that as well ?"-"Not overly, I knew to behave at least, but most everyone starts that way, I think, and I am sure no virgin anymore."-"I had hoped so." That had him looking up. The first hint might have been ambiguous, but that seemed unequivocal and, indeed, the Elvenking was grinning like the cat that got the cream." Loki was no stranger to flirting, but usually the initiator. To find himself on the receiving end now felt somehow strange. That and it went straight to his groin.

For a moment Loki seemed either caught off guard or shocked and Thranduil dreaded that he might have presumed to much, since he knew nothing of the other's culture. But Loki's response reassured him:"Why ? The king's I've met before would have beaten each other bloody for the honour of the defloration." Good. For that was very telling. It meant, for one, that he would not mind a male partner and second that he really was experienced to be to cocky about 'other kings before'. Also his amusedly relaxed stance implied him not to be too needy. That would only lead to mindless animal rutting and Thranduil would not engage in anything that base. Conclusion: Loki was in every way worth the try.

"I would hope to be different. Rather knowledgable than possessive."-"Oh, you are possessive. I know the type. But it is true, your know-how will outweigh your possessiveness. And that is a type I appreciate. There is even a saying for that, where I have been, though it was meant for sports: True adepts don't play with beginners." Now that had him laughing, just lightly, before it got undignified. But saying such, Loki really gave himself a way. A player, deviant and doubtlessly rebellious in the face of any social norms, he was just what the isolated king needed.

That was a beautiful laugh. Loki mostly knew the rumbling guffaw of drunken Aesir at their feasts, spewing half-eaten meat and banging on the tables, shaking them with their fists. A 'hilarious' event mostly was a repellant one. This siren song was nothing like it. And Thranduil saw. He smiled sincerely:"You and I appear to share our opinion. Would you, knowing that no harm shall befall you in my realm or sudden lack of hospitality penalise you in any case, consent to test our agreement in practice ?" And Loki smiled sincerely, too. The king wanted, but did not press, and worded obscenities in sugary formality. He amazed the prince to no end.

So Loki's grin widened and he trailed his eyes visibly down the king's length and up again, before very slowly nodding. Thranduil was burning inside then and carefully controlled his movements as he stood and sauntered over, making Loki burn for it in turn. There was just no way towards passion like slow teasing to built it up in anticipation. And so Loki waited until he was right in front of him, before unclasping his legs, previously one across the other. And very slowly did Thranduil lean down, placing his hand on the backrest of Loki's armchair on either side of his head. But they did not kiss. They watched each other ever so slightly trembling with desire and innerly laughed over their likeness in procedure.

Still staring, their faces inches from another, Loki solwly opened his legs further, Thranduil moving between them without even looking, just feeling it. He moved closer until their crotches touched and both felt the spark. So Loki lifted his legs to lay them around the elf's hips and draw him closer yet. Grinding him against himself. Both hissed at the friction. Then Loki gasped as he was pulled up and swung around, only to land a few moments later on the Elvenking's bed. But he would not lay down before him and with the grip of his legs pulled him down with himself. That, however, had them collide and Loki looked up in surprise at the touch of lips on his. Thranduil mirrored his face at first, it had not been his idea. The momentum of the fall, perhaps. Perhaps a push of fate, if that existed.

In any he deepened the kiss, mapping the others mouth and was answered in kind. Thranduil tasted like the forest berries, the fresh air of the waterfall and his sweet wine. And while Loki could not taste himself, Thranduil found him akin to the spring water of a cold mountain top and snow-covered cedars. For some reason, Loki felt like the winter. His very skin was cool despite his obvious desire. But Thranduil would not hold it against him. His old burns, long scared over but aching again at the thought of Smaug, were soothed by the cold like a magical balm. He loved the feel and wanted to sink ever deeper into his younger partner, but there but just too many clothes in his way.

He let go of Loki to get rid of them, but the foreigner stopped him. He was certainly quizzical then, but the deviant just smirked and traced a finger over his upper body, all layers dematerialising. Thranduil was shocked at first, but Loki nodded to the side and Thranduil watched them rematerialise on his armchair. The magic of the Jotunn, as he had identified himself earlier, was truly versatile. Useful in any case. Then Loki let his own upper body coverings disappear, completely as Thranduil noticed, and pulled him back down.

And he had indeed waited long enough by now, so he just dove right in again, kissing the raven-haired beauty as if he did not need to breathe and tracing every uncovered bit with his fingers, scratching slightly on occasion. It had Loki humming and he felt the king as well. Partly in curosity over the elf's magic hiding his wound, mostly because the lean creature had been able to carry him to the bed and Loki liked to feel the steel under that soft skin. They were, by then, so deep in their own world that neither noticed the soft knocking nor the door opening to the sight of their half-naked forms hungrily at it on the king's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope, you liked it.  
> Now prepare for the dilemma of the barrels !  
> !!!>Before I forget: You might have noticed that I am rather sure about 16 chapters now. It won't end with that, only the story will. I am already in the detailing of my plans for a series, i.e. I'm currently organising my notes on the second instalment into chapters.


	6. The dilemma of the barrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the elves have some uncomfortable talks, Loki is taken to the dwarves in prison, but he soon wishes to br anywhere else, as his situation forces him to choose: Warn Thranduil of the escape in progress and betray his companions or follow them and give up on all that he and Thranduil could be by betraying him ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes contain spoilers, consider yourself warned.

There was a slight breeze suddenly. But that should not distract him. Yet it felt like a draught. He could not have left the door open, could he ? Concerned he looked up to the door and froze at the sight. His son and captain both were standing the open door gaping at them jaws dropped and eyes wide in shock. Neither had ever seen their king so much as leering in centuries, now he was clawing at the foreigner and sucking the creature's tongue into his mouth.

It was obviously Loki's fault. His father never did that and now that the beast had been alone with him for hardly an hour, he was seduced, robbed of his mind. The sneaky shape-shifter was a honey-trap ! Only his father could not see that as he was already caught. But just what should he do now ? Everyone was rigid, not even daring to more one muscle, certainly not speak. The silence was simply all-encompassing, the tension palpable.

Now that had gone a bit long. It made him itchy all over. There was no helping it, if they could not speak, he would:"Well, I understand that you have packed the dwarves neatly into their cells and still found them uncooperative about me ?" Once the silence was broken, motion set in again. Tauriel averted her eyes as the king moved to get his clothes from the armchair, while Legolas answered a very clipped 'yes', before turning towards his father:"I have confronted them with his abilities and they pretended not to have known, but were not surprised. However, we originally came to notify you that the feast has started and your absence is being noticed. Rumours are spreading already, even though they mostly concern the dwarves."

"Thank you for reminding me. If you would escort prince Loki to his entourage. I will just take a moment, before I join the feast." Both were surprised yet again at hearing of his title, but they certainly did not just like him again after what they had seen and waited impatiently as Loki let his clothing reappear on himself and turned to Thranduil once again, whispering a soft goodbye and receiving a sincerely apologetic look. But he understood duty and just smiled with a slight bow of his head, before turning to he door, from where Legolas urged him out.

The door closed and Thranduil reached for his wine. He absolutely needed a drink now. However, the bottle on the table was empty. However did that happen ? Anyway, he knew he still had one by the bath, so he wouldn't have to call a servant to bring one. Instead he moved into the other room and finally got some alcohol after the embarrassment of being caught with a lover by his own child. He took a bit more than a moment, but his nerves needed that. At some point Tauriel entered. He had ignored her before in the assumption that her and Legolas' news would be the same. But true, over Loki he had all but forgotten about the spiders they had moved out to kill. He could, since they were already talking in private, have his Talk, concerning Legolas, with her now. It was long overdue.

-

Loki felt the agitation in the elven prince. It was almost radiating out of him and a darker part of him revelled in it. His mischievous side that craved to grate on him further. Blowing off some steam for once would only do the elfling good. So he made a few innocent comments on the way. Just little, not at all goading remarks like "You don't walk in on your father a lot, do you ?" or "Just don't think about it any further. Nothing really happened after all. Not with the interruption so early on." also "Actually, you can be glad. Imagine you had entered half an hour later. Considering where we might have been by then, this was the lesser evil for you by far." Legolas bore it, though. He said nothing, just cramped his jaw and fists.

But his patience was limited and Loki's comment on them still having the chance to continue from where they left off after that feast was that bit too far. He twisted in a second and threw Loki against the wall, drawing a shortsword and hissing at him to keep his forked tongue behind his teeth, unless he wanted it cut from his poisonous mouth. But Loki had timed his goading perfectly and the elf's outburst had the dwarves banging against their bars and shouting threats and insults at the blond prince. That drew the attention of the guards and Legolas knew from the smirk in Loki's face that it was planned. Because the guards saw it and would no doubt report to the king, if he did anything at all. Loki was basically laughing in his face.

-

Once his charge was safely behind bars he stormed off to the feast. But the reawakened dwarves would not rest again. They growled at their cell doors and whined about the mountain. Loki lay back to doze for a bit. Then he felt it again. Furry-feet's magical artifact neared and so did its bearer. Astoundingly enough, the hobbit had keys. That was a little disquieting. He got them out of the cells, but they would never reach an exit, anyway. And apparently they were not even trying to. What should they do in the wine-cellar ? Then he saw the lever and guessed the ramp. They would make it out !

A little part of Loki was really impressed. The other was panicking. The dwarves were already climbing into the barrels and Loki was lost. He had not thought their escape an option, not a realistic one at least. Now the hobbit whispered at him to get into the last barrel. He would pull the lever. But Loki was rooted to the spot. He could flee with the dwarves yet. He could escape, but for what ? He had no true interest in their quest and it would destroy all his chances with Thranduil, if he betrayed him so, letting the dwarves escape and wake the dragon he feared. But there was so much honest caring and for some reason even trust in the hobbit's eyes. Thranduil certainly didn't trust him. Liked him, wanted him, but didn't trust him. He was too clever and experienced a king for that. And his son hated him.

Looking at Bilbo, Loki realised that he had never met such a big-hearted and humble creature in his life. Such a ready friend. It literally hurt to break the faith of the trustful little thing. But every optimist, for sure one as young as this, would learn someday that the real world did not pay mercy and kindness back. Thranduil, however, was him. They were more alike than Loki had felt himself to be with anyone in the nine realms. And Thranduil was old. He would not turn around one day and be another. Used to being an outcast for being unlike everyone else, for not liking the summer-sun and bonfires and fatty food, for reading instead and learing magic, for everything, he really really needed someone that he could relate to and who would relate to him in turn. Someone who didn't frown at his antics or call him a freak. Someone who truly understood him. And the hobbit just couldn't.

He did understand, though, what it meant when Loki, instead of coming as he was asked to, slowly moved his head from side to side and took a step back. Then, panic consumed the hobbit and he jumped at the lever and threw it moments before Loki screamed. A long, drawn out 'guards'. The barrels rolled out, dropping into the river, and the hobbit was behind them, just as Tauriel turned around the corner. Immediately she called for the river gate to be closed and wanted to run out again. But then she looked at Loki. He stood still, deep in his mind. If he knew anything about Thorin, the dwarf would never trust him again after this. He would never allow him near them again and do all to keep him away from his hobbit. The hobbit that still carried the artifact he desired.

Tauriel ordered one of the guards to take him back to his cell and ran out. Loki didn't fight it. He followed absent-mindedly and pondered his own quick decision. Had he been too rash about it ? That question tormented him. For a long time. He kept going over all the pros and cons of both sides, trying to weigh them against each other.

Thranduil should be the better option in any case. Thorin was only a homeless dreamer after all, craving a kingdom and a great treasure. Thranduil was wiser, he had a kingdom, wealth and an army, where Thorin had twelve other dwarves and a hobbit. A hobbit with a powerful magical artifact who had just successfully broken a dozen dwarves out of the elven kingdom's prison. He had to weigh those points again.

-

Hours later a guard appeared in front of his cell and Loki shook out of his thoughts. He was brought back to the king's chambers and found him redressed, likely for the feast earlier in the evening, and drinking. He should watch his limit. But the eyes of the elvenking said that he needed it. Something grave had happened. The guard left again after a bow and the closing of the door had those eyes on him. He was not exactly sure what to do as the king just looked, but then he graciously lifted the silence:"You have not been here long, but you are cunning and cautious. What do you know of an orc pack hunting the dwarves ?"

Loki thought back to Azog and Dol Guldur, considered what he could tell, and decided that he had chosen Thranduil after all:"I know that Azog the Defiler hunted Thorin, but now another does in his stead. I don't know that one." Thranduil seemed positively surprised at the ready and knowing answer, but also more curious:"Do you know why that changed ?"-"Azog has been sent on another mission."-"Sent by what sort of creature ?" The king's voice had notably dropped in pitch for the last question and the wording was strange, too. He suspected an answer already. "It was less a creature than a formless entity. I could feel its presence throughout the fortress, it was extremely powerful, but apparently not strong enough to condense its being into a living body."-"What fortress ?" The king seemed hardly capable of breathing anymore and at Loki's murmured 'Dol Guldur, the ruin in the south of this forest' he almost dropped. Some disastrous horror was becoming reality for him.

It took time, but he fought back down the rising terror. He was at least mostly dead and without so much as a body surely not dangerous. A sickness, not worthy of being called an enemy. At least that was what he kept telling himself. The greatest danger in Dol Guldur was Azog and they had dealt with orcs before. Most urgent was Thorin's quest, anyway, and he couldn't let the past consume him, when the present needed his attention. In this case, the worried Jotunn in his room. Loki who barely knew him, but had called for guards, when the dwarves fled, not come along. For someone that lonely, to let go of the first friendly creatures he had met in this world was grave.

So, once he had gotten back his bearings, he asked:"Why are you still here ?"-"Forgive, but you had not dismissed me."-"Not in my presence. In my kingdom. Your friends fled and as I understand it you could have accompanied them in their escape. Why did you stay ?"-"I could escape any moment, should I desire it. But I have no reason to do so."-"No personal, yet a social one. Therefore I ask: Do you have a specific, personal reason to stay ?"

He looked at him pointedly, but the elf knew that a person was no reason. And Loki couldn't have told him that he loved him. They had met once, after all. So Loki admitted:"You are more like me than any I have known my life. Deprived of kin that meant something to me." Now it was Loki fighting to keep his composure. But all of a sudden he was engulfed in warmth.

The king's hug felt a little awkward, as if he had not given one in so long that he hardly remembered how to. But Loki wasn't one to throw hugs around, either. It was comfortable. And wet ? He feared at first he might have teared up like a cry baby to be ridiculed any moment, but it where the king's lips on his temple and eyelid then. Afterwards his cheek and his lips. They both were not overly into hugs. But there were other ways to be close to someone.

And this time, they did not delay it. Their clothes disappeared at a snap of Loki's fingers and both were back on the bed from hours before. Thranduil reached to pluck a vial of oil from the beside table and Loki chuckled at him. It got him a curious look from the king, so he spread his legs wide, displaying his equipment. Then he took the elf's hand to guide it down and on the way, Thranduil felt their hands getting slick. His grin Loki answered with a wider version of his own:"Magic is more than just power. It's a great bit of fun, too."

He quickly found the tiny entrance and first of all scratched at it, earing himself a high-pitched mewl. He really prefered an experienced lover over a timid, blushing virgin. So he tested the foreigner further, leaning down to kiss him once again, biting at his bottom lip and being answered likewise. He raised the pressure of his finger and moved his head lower for distraction. Loki wasn't exactly lax and he wanted it to be good for both of them. So he trailed kisses and nibbles down the long neck and over the prominent collar bone. Loki was writhing by then and almost carving into his back with those nails of his.

Then he reached a raised little nub and bit it in the exact moment that his finger breached the tight hole. Loki half gasped half screamed at it, but obviously in a good way, since his tell had jumped from half-mast to straight up, bending towards his belly. He was perfectly fine with the development. But Thranduil worried now. Loki was tight, which was great for him, but he shouldn't be. There was no way that he was not already well versed in what they were doing, but he was in fact tight enough to pass for a virgin. Perhaps centuries of abstinence could do that, or he was just usually the one giving, not taking. In either case, Thranduil was honoured to be allowed in this apparently rare position.

So he worked for it, seeking that wonderful spot and rubbing it mercilessly. Loki whimpered and shook, crumpling the sheets. He was high on the sensation and his lover's back already was a mosaic of white skin and red welts crisscrossing it, but it just made him desperate and there were only just two fingers by then. Two long and talented fingers, but they could very well make him finish. Finally he just couldn't bear it any longer. He shoved Thranduil back and on his own back. A look of surprise and doubt was on his face, but only before Loki sat astride him. Then the elf grinned again:"Too good exists ?" Now that cheek had to be remedied. So he just sat on the king's cock and sank down all in own go. Thranduil's breath caught at that and his eyes widened so far they almost looked like popping out. Loki just thought 'Gotcha'.

By all that was holy, his brain was short-cuircuting. The cool body on his lap squezzed him in a vice grip. Actually, it almost hurt. But it definitely had to hurt Loki. And yes, he had flagged some, but the face-splitting grin confused a bit with mixed signals. So he raised his brows in question. But Loki was just Loki:"Perhaps a bit, but it was absolutely worth it for that face. And I do get to enjoy you a bit longer." And he did. Once both were more used to the tightness, he started moving. Not rutting, slower, but deep, building in time. At some ponit, the likely spoiled prince decided that Thranduil could do some of the work, too, and turned them again.

It amused the king and he could choose the pace, which as great, because he had been going mad at that purposefully slow rate from before. So he raised it a bit, keeping it sensual and led them to a sugar-sweet climax in each other's arms. Neither wanted to move afterwards. They just snuggled together to fall asleep.

Then a knocking came and both were up in a second, Loki magicking their clothes back on right before the door opened. A guard or servant or whatever apologised to the king and everything turned upside down. Despite Thranduil's order his son had left the forest to go after Tauriel. And from her reaction the Elvenking knew that she had gone for that shot dwarf. Thorin Oakenshield was going to wake a dragon and now Legolas was out there for a girl running after another.

He had to get him back inside, soon !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I have just written my first actual sex scene (Beorn was not really that explicit, after all) sooo: Do give me some leeway, but feedback would be great. On everything, mind you. But on tests preferably. Criticism is the path to improvement, or something like that.
> 
> And: 'Ever the fathers' by Friday or Saturday.


	7. Ever the fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's earlier decision gets the appearence of a mistake as a second father breaks his heart, but he also gets to meet yet another widowed father and does just what the God of Chaos would always do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, earlier than promised ! Yet, I might possibly have adjusted the canon a bit for the sake of the story. Please don't judge me for it. The film is drastically different from the book and still fantastic, so it can't be that sacrilegious.

What could he do ? The most obvious reaction would be to send a guard for him. But Legolas was not easily convinced, certainly not, once he heard his opinion on Tauriel, because that stupid girl had no place in his kingdom anymore. She had just abandoned her duty and run off for a dwarf. And she had the most horrible influence on his son. No, indeed. She would never enter his halls again.

But if Legolas was with her and the guard let her know not to return, it was likely that Legolas would do something stupid. And a guard could not return him, if he did not come willingly. A squad of guards ? That would look a bit strange towards his people. But how else could he get him back in a way that looked innocent, but could assert itself against him, if necessary.

Well... That left precisely one option. Not a brilliant one, but it was the only way to save Legolas from the dragon:

"You must find him and bring him back to me !" Loki turned from his own thoughts on Legolas in exasperated outrage:"I must ? Why would I ? You did not teach him about the idiocy and inevitable hurt of love ! I have no obligation over your son. Even if I share your bed, I'm not his mother !"

And a sting whipped his head around, almost bringing him to the floor. He could barely believe it, Thranduil had hit him ! "Yes, you are not my son's mother. You are no family to us. But you are on my sovereign soil, so as your king I order you to go to Laketown and retrieve my son. Do you understand now ?"

The look Loki gave him could have shock-frozen the smouldering heart of a firedrake. But he did not reply. He turned on the spot and marched out. Thranduil was unsettled to say the least, he knew he had gone to far, – Oh the heat of the moment ! He should not have mentioned Legolas' mother. It was the peak of sore spots. – but now he truly worried as to what Loki might do with that temper of his ignited so.

He called after the retreating form:"Where are you going ? Loki ! Tell me your purpose !" One long moment there was only a faint echo of his own words before an angry "To Laketown ! To save your stupid son from his own heart-addled lack of a head !"

And that was the last he heard. By its volume it was propably heard by more than him, more like the whole of Mirkwood. But, while he was gravely insulted and humiliated by the specific words and the fact that everyone must have heard them, he was also positively surprised. Loki would still protect his son, even after he had definitely hit below the belt. From what he knew of Loki, the proud prince might well have sought his son's life for this slight. But it hadn't sounded like a lie. Or so he hoped. Waking a dragon was by far bad enough, incurring the wrath of powerful warlock would not exactly improve the situation.

-

Loki was livid. So the glorious high king had had him, the fallen foreign prince, and immediately he was an outcast again. Only a servant to run errands for him and even to seek that love-sick, spoilt, again favoured blond prince who hated him already. Odin and Thor all over again. He was never anyone's preference but in bed, never a true equal to the beloved family.

To make way he shape-shifed into an otter and jumped into the stream, following it until the dwarves' scent left the water. But there another scent was pungent. Orcs ! So they had reached the landing point of the dwarves, but neither had remained there. He looked around and sniffed with his animal nose. But he just saw too little and rose as a bird into the sky for a better view. From there he saw it. A town of wood built in the middle of a long lake.

Flying there did not take long, but finding the dwarves might get difficult, he thought. There were many houses that they could be in. He took a closer look, flying lower, and spied various indicators for a celebration not long ago. Perhaps for the same reason as the elves ? He actually doubted it. But there was little else for him to do, while he didn't know the position of dwarves or elves. Then his magic sense picked something up. He followed the feeling until he found a house with a tattered roof. And from inside he heard an elvish voice. He looked and beheld Tauriel healing Kili.

Or she tried to. The captain used herbs for aid and vocal directions, but her magic was hardly effective. She was a warrior, no healer, and her attempt proved her inexperience. She had magical energy, all the elves had. But she did not know how to use it. He transformed back into his Asgardian form and dropped through the roof.

Immediately weapons were raised against him, but Fili recognised and welcomed him:"Loki, please ! My brother was poisoned. You are a wizard. Can you help ?" He didn't seem to trust the she-elf, unjustly so. She did her best. Kili was in trance and felt no more pain, while she fought the poison. For an amateur, it was actually quite good, just not as good as the poisoner had been. Loki nodded to the dwarves, from an awed Oin watching the healing in progress over the worried brother to a happily smiling Bofur. A good-natured soul close to Bilbo. Tauriel was more suspicious, but the reactions of the other dwarves calmed her.

She let him join her, the humans entirely ignored, and he tapped into her energy. It would weaken her, but she was so desperate to save the young dwarf. Loki hardly knew him, since Thorin had kept his favourites ever close to himself. That they were parted now was not a good sign, especially for Thorin's priorities this close to his gold hoard. But he had to concentrate: He drew from her and directed the energy through the herbs, so they would adopt their healing effect and empower it, before leading it on into the infected body beneath.

-

He was a little insulted, a little stunned. An absolute stranger just came through is roof and everyone accepted him in without any consultation of the owner of the house. When the light had died down and the dwarves flocked around their wounded, now looking a bit healthier than before, he cleared his throat purposefully loud and finally the stranger turned to him. So he asked somewhat huffily:"Pardon me, if I am bothering you, but regardless of your good deeds: Who are you and what are you doing in my house ?"

Just for a moment, he was sure, he had seen the stranger's eyes narrow at him, but then he responded courteously:"Oh I beg your forgiveness, good sir. This is so embarrassing, my manners entirely forgotten at the sight of poor Kili's state. How rash and inconsiderate. I owe you for this trespass. Trust me, I sought only the dwarves. King Thranduil mentioned one to have been poisoned."

Then he had to placate the almost hyperventilating young man, more adolescent looking in his panic, and assured him that it was not a grave trespass, considering his motivation. But he did want to know his name and was answered suavely:"I am Prince Loki Laufeyson of Jotunheim." That earned some dropped jaws, his included. But one of the dwarves' queried:"Loki ? How come you never mentioned the 'prince'-part before ?"

Idiotic warm-hearted Bofur. But he knew a great excuse he had used before:"I have been to foreign lands before and one thing I have been taught for that early on: Never give your title without a squadron of guards behind you. Else you will get yourself on the top of the bounty list. Royal houses are known to pay great sums for captured members of theirs. Equally enemies of the captives' families. In any case, I would not fancy captivity and whatever that may entail for the sake of my pride. That is, why I didn't just throw that in everybody's face, when first coming here."

Bofur's mouth formed a funny O then. He'd bought it. So had they all. To limit possible doubt in the future he added:"Only the Elvenking had me question the standard routine. Because honestly rethinking it, no-one here could contact my home to demand a ransom, if anyone here could capture me in the first place. But there are few powerful enough for that around." Then he looked all his naive audience over again, especially the man. He owned the house and had three children close to him. The father obviously and apparently widowed, too. It reminded him of Thranduil and that made him angry again.

He should ask Tauriel about Legolas now, since the orcs had been there and gone again from the looks of the room, but he was not there. Then again, the reminder on his maddenening lover set another plan for him. It would only do the selfish prick some justice. And he started asking the name. Bard, apparently. Second he isolated him. They moved to another room, supposedly to talk about Thorin's reckless quest out of the dwarves' earshot, and the kids' not to frighten them. Third he deepened Bard's concerns, his despair. The bare emotions made him more vunerable, more susceptible.

-

It did not take long until he found himself in the others' arms. He wasn't entirely sure, how they had gotten that far in the short time. He hardly knew the feminine looking young man, but the dwarf had called him a wizard and there was something assuring in his air. Something unswering like the elves, looking so youthful, but surviving centuries unblemished. It was wonderous in a way.

Then suddenly the other was kissing him and he jumped back. A man ? But Loki seemed unpertubed:"Is that so unusual in your people ?"-"Well, no. Of course not. But you're a man. Both of us are."-"You are, yes. But not I."-"I don't mean man as in human, I mean you're male."-"That I am neither." Now he was really confused and then again stunned as the young man grew buxom curves, his breasts filling, hips widening, hair lengthening down his – her ? – back, as the alreay feminine face slightly morphed into an obviously female one. Loki was not male anymore. He was an actual woman. And an utterly gorgeous one at that.

And she smirked cheekily:"I am by nature both, it is in my race, but I can choose to display only one gender for a while. Right now, there is nothing male on me, if that will serve my purpose for you."-"What purpose ?"-"You are tense. Restless and cramping you will do no good to anyone. This behaviour of yours exploits your reserves and it will surely deplete them with time. How can you protect anyone in a state of constant exhaustion ? Please, let me put you at ease. For all you have done so far, raising three children all on your own, you deserve it. And for what you plan to do, trust me, you need it."

That could hardly be argued against. He wanted to voice his worry about the others noticing, but she just made some gesture that had the closed door and floor glimmering in green and she explained:"They won't perceive anything, but don't worry, I can still perceive them and will alert you immediately, if a situation occurs." Then he had nothing left to say.

Neither really said anything for a bit, considering that their mouths were busy with other things, as they lost their clothes and moved to the bed. Loki mourned that the small, stiff and annoyingly creaky thing was just not to be compared to Thranduil's huge, soft prime example of all beds. Some change was good, however. The human's skin was tanned, scarred and sweaty, his hands calloused. He looked like an Asgardian warrior, Loki had had some of those in her time, and she felt like the raspy tongue of a cat was licking her all over. It was good.

One thing she still had to clear, so when the man was too far into it to bail out, she stopped him, making him more desperate, and asked that he use the back passage to avoid impregnating her. She explained about her usual potion and that she hadn't had the time to collect the necessary ingredients, but the man stopped her. He got the 'preferibly-not-impregnating'-part and was fine with the change. Apparently, he had been young and adventurous with women before his kids.

Loki almost snorted at the twisted logic of men. Fucking a woman in the arse was just fine, but doing the exact same with another man suddenly abnormal ? Biased idiots ! Still she got what she wanted. Safely. Some men were disease-riddled, that she knew. But no human disease could harm her, not with her magic. Therefore a pregnancy was her only worry. But that her request had taken care of. Since Thranduil had no idea about the extend of her androgyny he had not required asking. Beorn had been a mistake, but – Loki had checked – an inconsequential one. And it had left her tight for Thranduil. Perhaps she should switch around more often, once she had her special tea again. But first she enjoyed this time.

Well, she would, but for some reason Bard was getting frantic already. Loki's proverbial sense of time might not have been exact, but there was no way that that had been so much as a quarter of an hour. Ah, the limited stamina of men. But in her female form, her partner could not just stroke her cock the last bit. So, once the human had come down from his suddering climax, she stared at him unimpressed. He realised the situation and was a bit embarrassed, but he appeared to have an idea.

And Loki moaned loudly as the tongue flicked her clit again. For someone who had last been adventurous before his teenage daughter's birth, he certainly hadn't forgotten the drill. Odin's beard ! The brats' mother had to have been a deviant to train him so. But Loki only profited from it. And since a tongue couldn't knock him up, she didn't mind it going deeper. And that way she finished at last. It was great, but better yet by the heavy breathing of one bargeman looking up at her with a very very slick face.

It almost had her laughing and she even tolerated the human collapsing beside her:"You took a lot." But both were smiling. And she had spoken the truth. Bard was visibly relaxed now. Any previous tension gone. She mentioned that, too. And Bard agreed. Even thanked her. But their calm didn't last. Instead it was crushed by an earthquake shaking the entire house and a deep rumbling sounding from afar.

-

Loki could imagine the source and had the hiding spell down, both their clothes back on, Bard's face clean again and his form back to male, before the human had managed one word. Then they ran down and found all, the children most extremely, panicking. The boy straightout greeted them:"It's coming from the mountain !" After that Loki only listened with one ear open, thinking hard on how to kill the obviously woken dragon as their voices became background noise. His thoughts were only inturrupted again, when a movement caught his attention and everyone gaped at the black arrow that must have hung there for decades, hidden in plain sight. Now, even Loki was impressed by a human.

But he had to think objectively:"It is astounding how you concealed that, but it is no use. That dragon will see whatever you intend to shoot that from and destroy it before he is hit. No human weapon of this age of development can fire exactly upright, but he can fly out of your reach until he is directly above, then rain fire down on it. Dragons are sly enough for that. And if you have spoken the truth and he was hit by it before, then his instinct of self preservation will overrule his pride. But even if you can use it before it burns: You have only one shot and no experience in slaying dragons. You can hope all you want, but you won't defeat the dragon."

He could see in their eyes that they believed him. That spark of hope was drowned. He almost felt sorry for shattering their illusions, but ignoring reality would not save them. Bard as well, his eyes gave him away, believed that he would fail, still he spoke up against Loki:"Maybe I won't, but neither will sit here waiting for death. Even if my chance is one to hundred, I will still try."

This was a father who inspired his children. They hung on his every word, but Loki was sure:"You can't slay that dragon. You have the will, but not the power. No men like you."-"Oh, so this all about you ? Do you want us to grovel at your feet, my prince, to beg you to kill the dragon for us, because you alone have such power ?" He could now see repulsion in most of their eyes. But not all. Bard himself had hope again.

Now Loki really felt sorry for it, but it was only the truth:"No. Alone I don't have that power." His heart sank again visibly, but perked up once more:"What precisely do you mean by 'alone' as you said that. Do you need some ally who could help you fight Smaug ?"-"No, again. ...but I know an ally who carries something that can help me."-"A weapon ?"-"Fighting a beast, I am my weapon. But to manage becoming a great enough weapon to match that beast, I need a greater supply of energy than my body's natural resources. What I seek is a power source. And I know of a great one, that right now is lying in the pocket of a jacket around the frame of a person within Erebor."-"So you can get that 'power source' and do something with it and kill Smaug then ?"

Part of Loki always expected to see Thor's scrunched up thinking face when he mentioned something magical. Now he saw it. But part of him was also amused now, not just annoyed like he usually was in this kind of situation:"Yes. And I should get going soon to arrange that." He turned and passed the door, but just outside had to add something:"I do ask though, that you keep that on the ground. I will deal with Smaug and I'd rather not have to do so with a black arrow digging into my flesh. Just in the case that due to the night being somewhat dark and humans having a tendency to err you mistake us for each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me someone saw that coming. (That Thranduil would send Loki and that Loki would use the ring to become a dragon, respectively.)  
> Literally, please do.  
> And everyone reward themselves who got the otter reference in face of becoming a dragon !  
> If you didn't, but are interested, look up on Loki's role in the origin of the Lindworm(kind of dragon) Fafnir that by the way Smaug was partly based on beside the dragon of Beowulf.  
> Also: 'Mind of the Trickster vs Spirit of the Deceiver' ahead. Not sure, when I have recorrected and sufficiently refined my draught to withstand my critical eye that still oversees far too much for my taste, but I'll probably post again around Wednesday.


	8. Mind of the Trickster vs Spirit of the Deceiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug leaves Erebor to burn down Laketown, but Loki arrives and takes what he needs. Now he just has to keep control of his own mind as the ring seizes a mighty host to carry it back to it master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I have a presentation on Monday and am so nervous, I didn't sleep at all last night. This is the result.  
> Concerning the content, though:  
> Honestly, Loki won't win this on his own and Middle-Earth would not be able to bear the consequences of a corrupted Loki under Sauron's command. Who/what can help him ?  
> Also: Welcome to the onset of Botfa !

On a bird's wings the way to Erebor was not too far. There was, however, another problem in front of him. He looked at the gate and found it entirely blocked with huge chunks of stone. Some had a sort of hewn structure on one or two sides as if they had been broken out of a building. And they probably had been. By the force of a dragon against dwarven architecture.

It scared him a little. He had never been something big enough for such feats of raw strength and he wondered wether the hobbit's artifact did have the power to get him even close. He didn't even know what it was. But even if he did, it was only useful if he got to the small creature carrying it. And for that he needed to get into the mountain. Just how ?

There was no way, he could move the rocks, but perhaps he could become something small enough to squezze through a gap between two rocks not perfectly fitting together. He was just about to rise in front of the wall in order to look for an opening, when a roaring scream sounded from inside and thundering steps followed that came ever closer.

Immediatly he hurried to the side and just managed, when all the rocks burst outwards, as a kolossal, golden dragon ran the wall through and leapt to the sky. That was, when he saw Smaug, as the titanic creature shed its golden covering and set to glide through the air, bound for Laketown, for revenge.

-

He followed still, running on his aching feet over the stony plain, until he finally saw the lake, that poor, unsuspecting town. And all he could think was 'What have we done ?'. "What you came for." He jumped around with a gasp. There stood Loki, his eyes blazing in the dark. He must have thought that thought aloud, but what had he answered ? "We didn't come to set a dragon on a city of innocent people. He will kill them !"-"Exactly. But Bard warned you of just this, he told me so. Thranduil warned Thorin, as well. He tried to keep him from this, even when he proved unreasonable. You all were warned repeatedly and still you went on. How can you say then that did you not come for this ?"

He was despairing:"I didn't want this !" But Loki just chuckled and suggested light-heartendly:"Try falling on your sword with no desire for dying. What do think might be the outcome ? What you wanted ? Or what you knew would happen ?" It was not a joke, though. It was bitter sarcasm and still he feared it true:"I thought... I just... I don't know. This was all a mistake."-"Quick thinking."-"Could you at least try not to rub it in my face."-"Why ? It is your fault, after all."

Now he was truly aghast:"My fault ?" And Loki was deadly seroius:"The Elvenking had stopped this quest in his wisdom, but you broke the dwarves out. I reconsidered then, but still you didn't. How do you hope to make up for that guilt now ?" How indeed. He had unleashed a monster. How could he undo that ? "I... I can't do anything. I can't fight a dragon ! No one can. They are lost, all because of me." But now the judging expression of the strange wizard shifted, softened somewhat, until it looked more like deliberation:"Perhaps it is not all lost, yet."

"How ? What can we possibly do ?"-"I can fight him, if you help me." He hardly believed it:"You could ?" But it didn't matter. Not while there was still hope for whatever way:"Tell me what to do !" And Loki smirked for a moment, before turning serious again:"The arifact."-"Pardon ?"-"The artifact you use to become invisible. It is more than that. Far more. I don't how you came by it, but it is far more powerful than you know. I can use it. I can tap into it and rise with its power to fight Smaug."

The hobbit had a bit of a reaction then, but his strategy proved fruitful and Bilbo pulled from that pocket he had noticed before a shiny, golden ring. Loki heard it call to him at once, but the hobbit had difficulties. He seemed like he didn't want to give it up. Perhaps there was more to it ?

-

But he overcame that barrier of possessiveness and dropped it in Loki's open hand. Then he saw a shiver go over the taller and Loki froze, his face scrunching up and he started trembling. Oh, what had he done again ?! That horrible ring ! It had uncovered the worst in him, making him very much butcher that spider baby like a raging madman. What had it done to Loki now ?

The moment, the ring touched his skin, he knew his mistake. It was far more than a power source, indeed. The ring was imbued with the fragment of a spirit. And he knew the feeling at once. That entity in Dol Guldur had felt exactly alike. They belonged together. It had to have been their parting that had weakened the entity so much that it had lost its bodily form. If they were reunited, the creature of yore would become again what it once was. And he had a feeling that that would not be good.

~

But how could he know ? He had not suspected Odin and then had been betrayed by him, maybe he was not an expert in that kind of evaluation and therefore shouldn't be too quick to judge. He didn't even know the being. But Thranduil had feared it horribly. But Thranduil was no better than Odin. Maybe he would deserve the lesson. A real lesson. He had openly disrespected him, after all. He should have known better than to cross Loki.

An image formed in his head. It showed Thranduil, whom he still desired despite his anger, naked and in chains by the foot of his bed. That was the right place for him. He thought himself a great king ? Well, Loki was a god and the elf should kneel to him. He should beg to be allowed to please him for his favour. Yes, that would be perfect. It would be right !

He fully agreed and greatly enjoyed the idea. Thranduil would submit to him in anything. Kneeling down with his knees and thereby thighs wide apart and his forehead low on the ground, displaying all he had to offer in a proof of his esteem. He would do all just for Loki in highest respect, in fear and terror of so much as upsetting him.

Terror ? Where did that come from ? He looked closely at the Thranduil in his vision. Entirely flaccid there was no hint of desire. Loki was insulted. That insolent elf should crave him !

And at his wrath the imagined lover hurried to please him, taking him down his throat in one go right to the hilt. He moaned in pleasure, but it wasn't quite right. Because the Thranduil in that scene silently cried, almost choking himself. It felt good, no doubt, really good. But not for Thranduil.

He acted out of despair. It was in his eyes. They were beautiful, but voicelessly screaming. And it was terror indeed. It all was not pleasure, not making love in the broadest of interpretations. That was rape. Loki was horrified at himself and shattered the imagined scene.

That could not have come from him. And then another's voice whispered in a lulling voice inside his head:"Why not ? You could have him in any way you like. I can leave you any you desire. They will be destroyed either way. Keep the pretty ones, if you wish to. Azog will accept that you hold the first choice, once he sees your power. He can take them, when you have grown tired of them. But you must know that it is all within your reach."

And he saw it. An entire realm of slaves and corpses. Any daring to disregard him were punished by torturous death. All remaining bent low on their knees. Any he desired spread ready in his grand, plush bed, blissful to be spared by his wishes from the torment of an orcish master. Elves, many of them, beautiful and grateful for his mercy. Any men and women, too. That voice did not care which he chose. Not if he aided the entity's war. He could be high king of forests and plains, if only he returned the lost possession to its rightful owner. It would only be just.

But 'possession' was the word that mattered there. That horrible ring was taking possession of him ! It would control him and use him as means to its end. But not Loki. He was the god of lies, of tricks, manipulation, of chaos ! When he was happy, he brought mischief and mayhem, when he wasn't. He was by nature not under the control of any others. Odin had spent his chance, had nearly broken him, but he had emerged from the tatters of his past far greater and mightier than ever before.

Knowing who he was, he had become who he had always been meant to be. He was a force of nature and no stoves nor dykes could ever truly tame her elements. He would never serve another king ! And his mind reared up against the intruder to overthrow that spirit upon him and himself seize control over the ring of power.

-

But his bout of motivation was short-lived. For a moment there the enemy spirit was taken aback as his plan for cooperation fell apart. Then he just redirected his efforts and instead of seduction administered pure force. And then Loki realised just how old the thing was. The weight of all those memories crashed down upon him and his breath caught. All this time, all that it had lived through, solidified its strength and Loki just couldn't match it. The force of his will in this battle of minds was just keeping his head above water, but his resolve had already started to dwindle.

The raw mass of those memories, so much more from a far longer life than his own, was giving him the worst of headaches and his concentration failed as his skull took to feel as though it wanted to burst. He didn't know what he looked like, but he felt wetness in his face. Was he crying ? He did not even comprehend that his ears, nose and eyes were all bleeding down his neck as his magic tried to deflect the damage from his mind to his body in order to keep him fighting.

But he did comprehend that he was failing. There were two realistic chances now. If he gave up he could survive the attack. If he deflected the attack entirely, his body would give out and his death would save him from an existence under remote control. That wasn't hard: He would die before he allowed anyone to keep him as a slave.

~

At last his rampant magic aborted the Asgardian form around his natural one to save energy and the hobbit's shriek reached him. It distracted him, allowing the invader further in and he knew, he was as good as lost. But then the hobbit's fear let him realise something. He was Jotunn ! Well, he knew that, of course. But he hated it and usually pushed it away, along with all that had anything to do with it. Now he could use it.

With the last bits and pieces of control over his own body remaining to him he reached for the casket and connected to that primal Jotunn artifact as a Jotunn himself. The casket immediately accepted him in and rose around his mind like a wall of ice. It was so originally bound to him, to his very blood and every single cell of his body that the ring would never be able to consume him, if it didn't beat his protecter first. And the millenia of the casket added to his own outweighed even the ring.

It had not its raw power, most of it already shaped into ice-magic and therefore not usable as power supply for shape-shifting. Not, unless he wanted to become ice and snow. But, strangely enough, it had the mental strength. Perhaps because it was itself imbued with the nature of Jotunheim and its population, used and cared for by many generations.

It matched the ring, just more defined, not as raw. The rawness made the ring versatile, which was good for Loki, but the casket was exclusive for it. Only Jotunns could ever use it. And for the first time, Loki was truly grateful for his parentage. The casket gave him the power to rein the ring and the ring gave him the energy for his magic.

-

Finally it stopped. Even the dwarves had been drawn out by the screams, fearing for Bilbo. And all had beheld their former companion shaking, bleeding, howling and screaming. Then even his skin had turned dark blue and the unseeing eyes blood-red. It had shocked all, but now he was calm again.

He looked at them in surprise, as if he hadn't even noticed their presence, nor their desperate tries to wake him from his mad state. Then he looked at his hand, holding the ring. It was tightly closed, but opening it he saw a big, circular burn mark under the ring, gleaming script on it just fading, as he cooled down. It had done a number on him. While healing himself, he looked to Laketown. Smaug was already there and the wooden city beneath him was ablaze. But not for much longer.

Loki moved to put the ring on then, but halted. If his hands became wings, he shouldn't wear a ring on any finger. Then he laughed as an idea rose in his head. The ring wanted to fuck with his head ? No problem. He put the ring – to the others eyes – into a trouser pocket under his robe and tunic. Actually he pushed the golden ring inside his trousers and on his cock. Righteous justice. Also the ring owed him the delight of the tight squezze for his monsterous headache.

Then he let his clothes slowly fade as his body expanded based on his impression of Smaug. Not fiery, he wouldn't be able to bear it. But icy to contradict the flames and embrace his nature. He was not ashamed anymore. And he watched their eyes follow as he grew.

-

The blue fingers enlongated, membranes spanning between them as a first thin tail curled from behind the warlock. His grin sprouted fangs and his forehead horns as the mouth turned into a snout and the feet into clutches. Body and neck stretched and scales shot out. They stepped back, nearly running away, as the long form thickened and grew further.

Tufts of hair formed into ever more horns and more jutted out of his spine and tail and the dwarves became smaller and smaller beneath him until he was certain, that he could mash them with one foot like ants. His supply was not endless and he wanted a bit of leeway, so he slowed his gowth and found a new form.

He was not as big as Smaug, but the group of dwarves were only a mouthful anymore and that was big enough. He was an ice dragon and he roared until he felt the ground shiver with the sonic waves he was giving off. Then he turned, his tail nearly flattening the company without intent. And he moved, barely hearing a quick squealing of words from one of the mites on the ground about a hole in a hide, as he started to trott, then galloped on wings and legs. And he leapt.

He had flown before but not like this. He floated on leather wings after the firedrake. Now, finally, Smaug had winter incarnate coming for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare - now really around Wednesday - for 'Rubies and Sapphires' meaning: the dragons meet and do, well, what was bound to happen. Tags did spoil that one already.


	9. Rubies and Sapphires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finally meets Smaug and is able to match him with his ring-powered dragon-shape. But kill him ? An idea thought impossible before now is an option. And imagine all he could do as a dragon ! Sleeping with a dragon for one. ...And conquering the world together ? If they can be friendly, that is. Between rivals other things may occur. Like a duel of dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting definitly in Botfa now, and still a day early again. Well, my presentation was over and I celebrated. Since I as the only one in my house - seriously, my dog salivates in streams at the sight of advocaat - not exactly appreciating alcohol at all, this happened. Considering its frequency by now, perhaps you should consider my supposed update day more of a personal ultimatum. But anyway, enjoy:

Loki had been right.

There was no fire at first as the fools who had not listened to him cheered to the light from the mountain, taking it as a signal from the dwarves to anounce their successful entrance. Second then was only a slight noise in the wind, in fact the faraway beating of strong, broad wings. But they saw nothing of the dragon overflying the town, scanning it for possible obstacles.

They did not know of his approach, until a storm of fire burst from the pitch black sky and consumed the entire tower that the windlance had been mounted on. Its burning debris was lost in the water and Smaug laughed as the first people started screaming in fright and fear.

After that he just kept gliding over Laketown over and over again to draw flaming lines of death and destuction over it on every turn. He, encaged as the beast should be, was able to free himself and get himself armed, but it was no use. His arrows hit their mark repeatedly, but none so much as scratched the scaled hide of the ancient monster.

-

He had no arrows left, nothing left to do. But Bain ! He brought the black arrow ! Maybe there was hope left. But he felt Smaug's eyes on him even before he looked up and the dragon knew how to survive. But even though, they were not crushed by the bodily attack, his bow was broken. He had nothing to shoot it from anymore.

And Smaug knew that exactly. The firedrake taunted him smugly, secure in his victory. He didn't even bother with a breath of fire. He would eat him raw and over the cracking buildings he came for them. Their fates seemed sealed and he whispered to his crying son:"I love you and I am so so proud of you."

Smaug was low in the air, but almost upon them, when against all the odds a whirling blizzard erupted from the sky, covering a radius of five houses at least and something blurry crashed into Smaug's side, hurtling him out of his course. He hardly believed it, the firedrake was pushed away from them and snow flakes danced before his eyes. He was freezing cold, but all the fires within throwing distance were extinguished and Smaug was out of sight.

-

Now his advantage of surprise was running out and he let go to get some room, landing by the shore as his body cooled back down from the exposure to the sizzling heat above the burning town. Smaug's perplexity had helped him by a great deal. Well, how could he have expected an attack from the sky that he had been the greatest being in and the drastic drop in temperature probably aided him against the firedrake, as well.

But that perplexity turned to wonderment. And, landed closeby, the intelligent beast asked in a polite manner:"While I must admit that I have heard of less fortunate kin with no gift for fire, you define 'cold drake' anew and much more favourably so. What a gift ! But pray, what may your name, dear stranger, be ? For I have never seen your like around and am terribly curious about this treasure that you are."

"A treasure, oh Smaug ? Do you flatter me so overtly ?"-"Flattery ? No. Behold your own reflection in the water of the lake. See ? Your eyes appear as glowing rubies; your unadulterated scales, my youthful friend, are purest sapphires ! Tell me, please, you do now mine, what is your name ?" He had heard many tales about just how bad an idea that would be, but he was flattered, indeed. No-one had ever said something positive about Jotunns, but Smaug notably fed his eyes on him and he couldn't outright refuse him anyway, so he settled for a third option:"By some I have been called Loptr, by others Hveðrungr. If you like, you may, however, call me Jǫfurr, as well."

"Jǫfurr, you are interesting. Winter in your chest, precious all around and smelling like a sweet, ready flower, begging to be plucked." Ooh, he had forgotten about that. Of course, if Beorn and Azog had, a dragon would smell it, too. A long discarded idea returned to the fore-front of his mind and he smiled, encouriging the exclusively male dragon in front of him.

He wasn't sure how dragons did that exactly and doubted that they would even work together rather than noticing early into it that fire and ice quelled each other. But Smaug lead him willingly. Before anything happened, of course, they danced. As dragons did it. They swung themselves into the sky, both easily seeing through the darkness that no human eye could perceive them through. And there they glid around each other in circles, dove and rose, constantly watching each other. Elegant and effortless, putting any swans and swallows to shame.

It felt just good, simply free to fly like that. No kings, no elves, dwarves or men, just the two of them. Loki could have cried and he didn't even know wether by sadness or happiness, just peaceful in a way. It was strange, considering the burning town almost in front of them. But none of that mattered anymore and slowly they floated back to ground, where Smaug outright mounted him.

He was taken by surprise, but didn't call it off, as the dragon's hot organ caressed his inner walls. It was probably the only place of his Jotunn form that tolerated heat, well, actually liked it. But that only served him. Not sensual exactly, but not overly quickly either, the firedrake on his back warmed him up inside with strong, insistent thrusts as their tails curled around each other.

He felt Smaug in his neck, too. His latest lover nibbled with sharp fangs on the tough hide just behind his horn crown and it tickled ! He shivered from the sensation and those in his nether regions intensified. He actually might, for the first time since his fall into the foreign world be the first to come. He was almost there, but some- Oh that blasted ring !

But it could only restrict one of his genders and he cried out in pure delight as waves of pleasure ripped through him, contracting his female canal rhythmicly and thus practicly milking the smouldering flesh within. Smaug thrust on a few times, but soon Loki felt a burst of heat that dampened his afterglow with its high degree. Fire and ice just didn't belong together, but the pleased a little growly purr of his partner stroked his ego enough to exceed making up for it.

Then Smaug, dismounted again, redirected his focus to Laketown:"Just look, Jǫfurr, at these insects scrambling to escape the products of my irritation. If not for your distraction, everything over there would be muddy ashes on the ground of that lake, by now. Of those, none could have ever hoped to hinder me. They are just so far beneath us."-"You don't even pity them for their meagre existence ?"-"Their existence annoys me. Why, do you care ?"-"Not really. Humans are fickle, fleeting. Mayflies, really. Insects, after all."-"Told you. They are nothing."

"No hinderance."-"What might you be considering to do unhindered ?"-"Travel. I considered flying over all the lands and anywhere I land be greeted with gifts to plead my mercy, kings bowing to me and kissing my feet." Smaug chuckled happily at that, almost giggled, if monstrous dragons could do that. And he actually felt a bit laughed at, as if it was childish to wish. But he already saw it before his inner eye.

He saw armies rise against him only to drop their weapons and bow low at his first devastating breath. He could see riches offered and beautiful maidens for tribute. He could see statues hewn and temples raised for him. He craved the recognition, that he knew, but it was hardly strange, since he had never really been granted any before. Well, he could collect his due now, tenfold if he wanted. Even Thor would buckle under his power, if he faced him now.

-

"Oh, Jǫfurr, can your hear them screaming still ? It will all be just like that. All, for we will journey. For a while. But they will not live long enough to gift you. We can just take all we want from among their rotting corpses."-"Why would we kill all ?"-"He does not like them, least of all those elves and wizards, and I will not shed any tears over them."-"Who is he ?!"-"The darkness arising. Do you not know ? I feel his little gold piece on you."

Now Loki was getting worried, but Smaug went on:"He wishes to wipe those from his lands and rule over a world of his servants. Honestly, I couldn't care less. Wether my raids are timed to the marches of his army won't change the result for me. It actually makes things only easier. And in the end, I will still have all the goods. Any castle or kingdom they conquer, I get the treasures from and my mountain will fill to the brim with all the world's gold and jewels."

Now he was outright scared. Exterminate all the races of the world except for orcs ? Well, they would still demean themselves before him, still living and knowing him capable of ending that. But a world full of monsters ? Well, he would never stand out negatively again. Quite the opposite with his stunning scales now.

But he liked to see beauty as well and not only of the material nature. A world of orcs would just be ugly; he wouldn't want to live in it. But again, he could feel an argument rise inside his head to counter his opinion. What was that arguing ?

Oh. Oh-oh. Beneath his notice the ring had crawled back into his mind. Immediatly he reached for the casket again with his spirit and re-empowered the bond, ousting the intruder, again. He really should get rid of the ring. Its skin contact with him allowed it in. But then, he noticed Smaug's eyes on him, narrowed into slits.

"You would not have a problem with that, would you ?" And the growling tone was an unmistakable warning. Smaug wanted that, wanted the treasures he had been promised. Gold was his priority above all else. Loki knew, if he voiced now that he wanted to step between Smaug and his gold, then he would, no matter their recent coupling, be fought to death.

"No, I don't." he answered instead, bowing his neck to lower his head beneath Smaug's in a show of submission. The bigger dragon accepted it and looked back to Laketown, still burning. Loki's pride ached at that, but while he kept his life, he could still avenge any slight. If he lost his life for his pride, it wouldn't work the other way around.

-

So he waited until Smaug lost himself in the sight of flaming death, thinking himself entirely safe. But Loki could not let this world be lost to him, not while he had no other. So he tightened his bond with the casket further, until his surface exuded cold and would frostbite on touch. Then he stepped back, tensing. And at last he launched himself at the unsuspecting firedrake.

Smaug was thrown into a tumble, hissing at the cold, and Loki bit and slashed at him with tooth and claw. But he noticed soon that he had left something out of his consideration. Smaug's scale-armour repelled even his tries. And now, the firedrake was enraged.

He roared and whipped his heavy tail across Loki's chest, bruising down to the ribbs and nearly cracking his collarbone. His scales were meant to withstand slicing and did nothing against the raw force.

The dragon just knew his own kind with its strengths and weaknesses better than Loki did. And he felt that as the firedrake leapt into the air, whipping his tail again and only narrowly missing Loki's head.

And he followed, ideas forming: If only they got high enough, then ripping up the unscaled wing membranes should prove lethal as well, condemning to free fall onto hard ground.

But for that, he had so survive a little longer, and a burst of flame from above almost finished that. But he managed to counter the heat with his own wintery breath. At least he could keep it from his face, but he felt burning heat on the back of his neck and his upper back. That was while painful acceptable, though. If the fire had hit his head, he feared, the drastic overheating might have had him unconscious in the middle of the sky, which would not have been too great.

Yet his quick countering had saved him, for now. But the moment Smaug noticed his try effectless, his short but clawed hind legs dealt sharp kicks against Loki's torso, aiming for the already weakened ribcage.

However, Loki was certainly not idle, either. He might not be able to pierce the others armour, but he had heard the hiss at the first touch of his cold and he noticed that Smaug, even attacking him, never kept contact long.

So he pulled his own hind legs up and grabbed the bigger by his waist. He could see the scales discolour from the frostbite and felt tremors go through the firedrake's body. All movement from waist down slowed, too. Loki was delighted.

Then Smaug bit into his shoulder, pressing his jaws together despite the chill until the taller's fangs did push through his hide and into his flesh. Loki howled in pain. His flapping went uneven, to say it politely. Really, it went all over the place. That shoulder functioning kept him in the air, he couldn't fall, it would mean his death !

But every little movement ripped at the wounds, opening them wider and paining him more. He had to get Smaug's teeth out of him and he saw a way. The bite in his shoulder forced Smaug to bend his neck in front of Loki, so he bit down on it, pushing all his strength into it. And success ! He drew blood, even if it was little, but Smaug let go of him with a yelp.

So he threw his head back and ripped at the bloody dents to deepen them, but Smaug knew the advantages of his anatomy better. He angled his head and yanked it back, driving the horns on the back of his head right into the side of Loki's face. He jerked back at once and Smaug snapped at his throat.

-

Roars filled the air. He looked up and just barely saw. Two dragons high in the air, obviously fighting. At the halt of his movements the others looked up, too. They squinted their eyes in a vain hope to clear the dim images. Their work needed their attention, of course, the partially burning town might might be saved, yet. But which dragon won would influence that work greatly. So they watched.

The best chances to really see anything had the elf and he asked:"Can you see, please, which is winning ? Is is Smaug ? Please don't say it is Smaug."-"I cannot tell. It seems that the bigger one has the advantage, but the faint light won't tell which that one is. If only they breathed their elements, but with both only biting and clawing, and whipping their tails, as it seems, I do not know them from one another."

Then the bigger closed his jaws around the smaller's throat and pressed them together, constricting his airway to throttle and thus kill him even without any bloodshed. But Tauriel saw more:"Their eyes ! The smaller has red eyes, the bigger golden ones. You saw Smaug up close before your return, which colour were his eyes ?" And it pained Bard to croaked still:"Golden. It is Smaug who wins."

"Abandon the town."-"What ?"-"Get everyone you can out of here now. Once Smaug has killed his adversary, he will return for Laketown. Putting out the fires is no use, if he returns. Get everyone to safety, it is all we can do." He did. They gave up their futile work and fled, taking as many with them as they could.

-

He couldn't breathe and the edges of his vision were darkening. Desperatly he hit and scratched at Smaug's scales. But it was to no avail. The firedrake's hide was an all-encompassing shield. But wait ! There was something about Smaug's hide... Someone had said something about a hole in his hide ! Bilbo, yes, as he was just leaving. What had he said ?!

Then he remembered, hardly conscious anymore, and with his thumb nail, in his shape a claw that could rival a spear, he found the spot that missed a scale.

A roar to shake the ground went over the lake, to the edges of the forest and the gate of the mountain, as his spearlike claw was imbedded into Smaug's chest, piercing the firedrake's heart. At once, he shoved him off and grabbed at the sky to get up and away, but only rasps came from his throat. At last, with a silent outry on his scaly lips, the lights in his eyes gave out and Smaug fell from the sky. he was dead.

-

But Loki had taken great damage, as well. He could barely keep himself in the air and most of the lake-men didn't know any more about him than that he looked like a second dragon. Arrows pricked at him from those encouraged by the fall of the first. Men were simple, after all.

He couldn't have stayed there as it was, though. The heat of the still burning town was rising to his head and it made him feverish. He had to get somewhere safe and cold. So he turned and heaved himself through the air back to the mountain, constantly sinking. His vision, however, was fading quickly and a short way before Erebor he fainted, luckily already flying low.

It was a crash landing still and broke the three pre-injurd ribbs, along with the collarbone on his right side. But he hardly noticed. He needed his rest and the hobbit was already running for him, dwarves following. He had slain Smaug, after all, and thus freed their gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw: Of the names Loki gives Smaug, the first two are alternatives for his own from the Edda, the last means 'prince'.
> 
> Now, meaning on Saturday latest, prepare for 'Three camps' sabre-rattling and one attempted burglary'.


	10. Three camps' sabre-rattling and one attempted burglary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug is dead, but Loki not too well, either. However, the once fearful rise now that the treasure hoard of Erebor inspires many a longing in dwarf, elf and man alike, raising tensions everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) When Thranduil and Bard meet, tensions rise also about another kind of treasure.  
> Sorry, this was a bit longer than planned. But that's not too bad, is it ? Just, don't expect a rough five thousand words in every chapter from now on.  
> Still hope, you like it.

All his body hurt and he wan't even fully conscious, yet. Very slowly then he lifted his heavy eye lids against their insistence on staying closed. He should wake. He knew that. But he couldn't bring himself to it. Eventually he drifted off again.

  
Bright light woke him the second time. Blinking he noticed that the sun was just growing on the horizon. He hadn't slept that long after all. It sure felt like days. But he was hurting worse now. It almost felt like someone was digging into his wounds !

Growling and teeth bared he looked for whoever might have dared such. And by his mangled shoulder he spotted the dwarven company and Bilbo, looking back at him like mice in front of a snake. Admittedly, going by their relative size and his arm still looking like a wing, he was probably still a dragon and his growl a menacing threat scaring them half to death.

  
Already Bilbo was hysterically making placating gestures and explaining squeakily that they only tried to help him, since he was badly wounded. Looking at their hands on their weapons, he was not too sure wether all the dwarves' intentions were really as pure as the hobbit thought them. But, considering that he was a dragon, they could also just be reasonably cautious.

  
In any case, he ignored them to raise his head high and look back at Laketown. It was still smoking. So the humans had failed to save it. Simple folk, he always knew it. But he had other priorities now: First he crawled into the mountain to get away from the dwarves' stares and out of the wind that aggravated his open wounds. Maybe he was just a delicate, though.

  
Very delicate, actually. That tiny bit of way was pure torture and he felt dizzy again. Dangerously so. Up and down were switching in backflips before his eyes. He really was weakened. Beside the pain, the sea of blood where he had lain might just have had rather much to do with that.

He needed to heal, soon. But the energy for that was keeping him from bleeding out entirely. His wounds were wide and numerous. Without his magic, he was forced to admitt to himself, he would have bled to death in his sleep. He needed extra energy. But he dared not tap into the ring in his state. Only one way remained.

  
He shifted back to his Asgardian form, consuming the matter of his dragon shape as fuel for his much needed energy. Some of it, at least, lest he fried his nerval system with too great a surge. But that way he would still have to reconstruct the shape anew and at great cost, if he wanted to become a dragon again. Still, he needed the power.

  
And by the time the company had cautiously slinked in after him, they found him as they knew him, except for the parts of him, meaning his shoulder and throat, that looked like they had gone through a meat mincer. And except the side of his chest that looked like he had been bombarded with tree trunks. And except the burns down his back, where Smaug's fire had gone passed the icy breath protecting his head. And except the side of his face looking like he had snuggled up to a porcupine from Smaug's horn crown.

He almost laughed a bit, bitterly. That had been a close fight. But the energy boost had closed all his wounds and put his shattered ribbs back into the position there were supposed to have, as well as fixed them there. The places of former fracture were still weakened and needed to heal completely with time, but he could breathe without risk of jabbing bone splinters into his lungs and that was a great improvement.

  
He also used some energy for a magical pain killer and to return his clothes, because in his Asgardian form, he was getting cold. To avoid another silent approach he also put the ring in a little pocket on his belt. Not a magical one, the connection would still be too close for his taste.

But the tad bit of friction at pulling the ring off eased his pained mind some. He would really like to get laid after his dispiriting fight. Funny, considering that he had in fact gotten laid twice that same night. He really didn't feel any positive effects anymore, though. Actually, he only felt like lying down on a soft bed and sleeping for a couple days straight.

In reality, there was no soft bed in Erebor after all those decades of a single inhabitant sleeping on the gold hoard. But once the dwarves realised that he was no dragon anymore, they took care of him. Somewhat. Their only healer was still in Laketown, as far as he knew. But they bedded him on some cloaks and gave him water from their bags. Bilbo even sat with him and told his half-dozing form stories about the shire to cheer him up.

-

  
Thorin was nowhere to be seen. And Bilbo tried dearly to distract himself with stories. He couldn't think about his friend. The friend who had gone so unnaturally frantic in his search for that stone. The friend who looked over his gold like a madman. He tried hard not to think about Elrond's words. A strain of madness in the family. He tried hard, really hard. But it wouldn't work, while his conversation partner remained entirely unresponsive.

But then, objectively speaking some hours later, noise came from the entrance. Strange, he had though all the dwarves deeper inside. He left the bedside of the sleeping magician and looked up to behold: Fili, Kili, Bofur and Oin standing in the gate ! Immediately he ran to them and was greeted most warm-heartedly. Thought dead ? Well, Smaug might well have killed them before leaving Erebor, but he had more important news.

And he did try to keep them away from Thorin and from that accursed gold, but he couldn't hold them, until they got the shock of seeing their king transformed more profoundly than even Loki's shape-shifts. Their smiles falling from their faces was sign enough, though, that they understood and were not affected themselves, not yet at least. But oh, Loki he had forgotten about, so he excused himself towards the brothers and asked Oin to follow him.

Overhearing that their elder was asked to see to Loki, they perked up, however, and followed throwing questions around all at the same time. He really, honestly tried to answer them:"Yes he's here – no, he lives – yeah, up in that room by the – no, he's not dying – erm, no, he didn't say anything – no, we hardly talked at all – no, he didn't tell Thorin anything about elves, either – No, I just said that they didn't talk – really not, he wasn't even woken up again – oh, don't worry, I didn't mean that, of course he has woken since, just not – please, would you listen to me, too – Seriously, STOP ! I hardly understand a word of what you're saying, when you all talk jumbled together, okay ?! One at a time, please."

-

Once they had all calmed down again, he led them to Loki who looked up at them with an annoyed but relenting expression:"I heard noise. But it is good to know that you all got away alive." Smiles answered him, albeit half-hearted ones. He looked gruesome. His face ripped up, his throat the same and shoulder also. What little was visible of his chest was black and blue and beyond their sight, his burnt back had blistered up.

But he was healing and Oin came to him at once. Loki accepted removing the clothes on his upper body, since it would be better for the wounds. And thus Oin could treat his burns with a herbal salve. His magic wasn't the best at that kind of wound and he was grateful, when the oinment cooled the heat-damaged places back down. The others saw only more of his state, though, and their expressions reflected their thoughts clrearly. Bofur raised his voice first:"Talking about getting away alive, you really got yourself mauled up there."

"I mean, we saw some of it. Shadows in the dark, perhaps, but we heard some, too. That was your scream, bit before the end, wasn't it ?"-"Yes, I did scream. But Smaug is dead now and I will live. A few days of rest and I will be alright. But Kili, all alone, where is your elf ?" Fili immediately looked in another direction; he didn't approve of his little brother's infatuation. But he would still support him, if he was really serious.

Kili, however, seemed surprised at being adressed at all, but then answered:"She... had to go."-"Go where ? Thranduil won't allow her back into his realm." Now Kili was surprised again:"How do you know that ?"-"I was with him, when he heard of her disappearnce along with his son's. His reaction was rather telling. But tell me, where would she go ?"-"I don't know. The blond elf that was with her, when they first took us from the spiders came for her. She went with him and that is all I know. Why were you with the Elvenking ? Why didn't you come with us, when we escaped ?"

That was not a path he had wanted to take. It was good to know that Legolas was alive and well and with her, good for Thranduil at least, but now he had to explain something, they would never understand. Those two brothers were so close. They could never understand solitude. What could he say then ? Oh, that was an idea !

He drew out the answer, lowering his eyes and inflaming his cheeks, until all were very curious:"Erm.. The thing is ... Well, you do like Tauriel."-"Yes, of course. But what does that have to do with you ?"-"I.. liked Thranduil." And he could see it sink into them and all were shocked. Fili more in the Oh-not-again way and Kili was nearly rejoicing at another feeling the same across a racial barrier as he, but then doubtful again:"Why 'liked' ? What happened ?"

"It has nothing to do with them being elves, but ... Kings just don't make for great lovers. They need to prioritise differently and I know that. But his arrogance to order me around like a subject of his, when I was only kept by my own desire, having abandoned my companions for him, that was just too much. It was a fleeting feeling, crushed in the bud. ...Could you, perhaps, not tell Thorin, though ?"

All were quick to answer then: Of course, they wouldn't. Thorin was unpredictable enough now under the influence of that dragon gold. So they wouldn't. Good. Only critical was Bilbo then, who at the mentioning of Thorin's name gotten something strange in his eyes. Loki wondered and worried, too.

But then he saw that tiny movement. Bilbo had something. He had just cupped it through his clothes for a second to confirm its presence. Something of the size of about a fist. Something that concerned Thorin. He was curious, but since it did not appear to have anything to do with him and he was still tired, he let go of the wish to investigate and turned to rest some more.  
His numerous visitors got the message and went back to their kin. Only Bilbo had to ask Balin something in private.

-

The next time Loki woke was to even greater noise than before and it sounded like ... rocks banging and grinding on each other ? Hammers ? By the Norns what was happening out there ? He rose at once in his irritation, sat back down to wait a bit, since he had stood up too quickly the first time, then rose again and staggered still a bit disoriented to the gate of Erebor.

There the dwarves were drawing up a wall. "Why are we barricading ourselves in here exactly ?", he asked one. The redhead – Gloin ? – answered:"The lakemen have moved into Dale."-"Interesting, but why does that require a wall ? It's not like they are orcs or something close to it."-"King's orders."

That was all he heared from the dwarf, now moving away to work on another part of he wall. Strange. But since the king who had given the order was Thorin, anything strange had to be expected. As if reading his thoughts that king now called out:"Loki, come here !" He really didn't like being ordered around, but his sense for self-preservation told him not to cross Thorin in that state of mind.

In the end he just wanted to know wether Loki was getting better, before advising Loki to go deeper inside and rest some more to regain his strength. He did, gladly so. Just the way in which Thorin had mentioned his strength, his feat of power as a dragon and their need to protect their mountain, while staring at the human settlement in the ruins of Dale had left him with an eerie feeling of foreboding.

-

But even if rest was hard to get in the cold, he did sleep for a while and upon waking went immediately to check on everything. His nightwatchman first of all, to get up to date on any nightly events. But while Alfrid proved astoundingly lazy for the deputy of an equally useless mayor, news did come to him.

For newly stood before him an army of elves. They were not inimical, even parted to make way for him, but the presence of an army was always unsettling. In this case, though, it brought something good, too. He might never have seen the Elvenking in person before, but it was the kind of person, you just recognised from reputation. And his first words brought joy to everyone.

Of course, the starving cheered at the free offer of food, the thirsty over drink and the cold over dry blankets. But his next words chilled Bard to the bones. An army, raised and ready, was a portent for war, after all.  
He tried to argue against it and did find hope, when the king, even though he obviously didn't believe in the slightest chance of success, gave him the chance to speak to the dwarves first. One king could be reasoned with, then. About the other he was not too sure. But he would try nontheless.

-

From the bridge of Dale he watched the simple-hearted mortal. As if Thorin Oakenshield would give a single coin, now that he had his kingdom and treasure hoard back. But the added time gave him a chance to organise the questions in his head. He had not expected an actual leader. The master of Laketown he certainly would not have asked for anything. This man he might. About how the dragon was slain, what he knew of his son and whether Loki had crossed his path.

Not an hour later, the leader of men returned disheartened. What had he expected ? He announced his plan to charge in the morning and turned, sure that the man would follow. He was king, after all. That did not require reminding. And Bard, as he had mentioned at some point, did follow unbidden. The king had not dismissed him, as Loki had once worded it.

Their camp drawn up already, Thranduil invited him into his tent, after he would have informed his peolpe of the timing. That was a dismissal. Bard left to do as politely ordered and Thranduil dismounted, told his captain about the plan and to inform the others, then retreated into his tent to get rid of the armour. It had been a while since he had last worn it and there were no good memories connected to it.

-

He let enough people know to ensure it would be carried through their lines, then went to the Elvenking's tent. Guards stood before it and he wasn't exactly sure what to say:"Erm.. I am ...being expected ?" The guards shared a look that didn't appear overly reverent, more pitiful, but they stepped to the side by about a half-step. It was signal enough, though, that he could enter. And he did into an ostentatious interior to be greeted by a redressed king in soft red robes. Red was also the wine he was offered at once.

He did take it and was offered a seat, but he felt like something bad was about to happen. The king had seemed a bit aloof earlier and now he was suddenly kind ? Having seated himself with his own cup of wine, he smiled even a bit. Bard felt like he was being scrutinised, though, and wracked his brains for something to say into the unsettling silence.

"I still don't understand how Thorin hopes to keep that mountain.... But it has proven you right, mylord. You have indeed been only realistic... Gracious more so. We would not have known what to do without your kind gifts. I have to thank you for that again... Can I do anything to make it up to you, lord Thranduil ?"

"There is no need for that. I might have a few questions, though. We have heard roars far into the forest, but saw nothing from inside. Here there are hushed whispers of a second dragon beside Smaug. Could you enlighten me about that ?"-"Of course, that is a bit of a ...misunderstanding. The second dragon wasn't really an actual dragon. It was a ...shape-shifting wizard, who- Actually, you must know him. He or she or whatever, but Loki mentioned your name. That you had told of the wounded dwarf."

Now there was a new kind of silence as Thranduil worked through that new information:"Loki ? Became a dragon ?"-"Yes. As a dragon he fought Smaug and killed him in the end. It was close and she has to be badly injured, but she won. He."-"Why would you consider Loki to be female ?"-"That's .. Well, I don't know what 'both' is called." The Elvenking only raised a brow, his head slightly inclined to one side. He didn't know ?  
"L-Loki said that he was both by nature, but could choose only to show one and did turn entirely female for a short while." Thranduil appeared to ponder that for a moment, then asked with an edge to his tone:"And how exactly did Loki come to explain and shift his gender for you ?" He could not really stop his cheeks from reddening at that implication.

But that was nothing compared to the face of the Elvenking. It reddened, too, but not from embarrassment. His nostrils quivered also and the muscles of his jaw tensed, visible through the skin. He was mad with rage. Oh dear, there was a past between them that he had not known about and the jeasouly of a king was not something, he had ever wished to incur.

A part of him would have liked to draw his sword and cut the man's head clean off for touching his lover. But he calmed himself. Bard's shock showed clearly that he had had no idea. A mere tool for Loki's revenge. How dare Loki take a simple mortal after him ? Such an insult ! But that was likely the purpose. Payback for treating him like a servant.

He had sent a messenger after all, not expecting the foreign prince to actually do as he had unjustly ordered him. That one had returned empty-handed then, reporting Legolas to have ridden away with Tauriel. Loki had been the only option, really. He should have asked, though, not ordered. It was only his own fault.

That Loki could switch genders, however, was new and interesting, too. Bard was still uneasy in his presence, though, so he allowed him to go in a tone designed to let him know that he held no grudge against him. The man was calmed a bit, but left hurriedly still.

-

Bilbo pondered it back an forth. Thorin had scared him greatly. He had called upon Loki, after Bard had left, and inquired directly wether he could become a dragon again. For the company, he had said. For the defence of the mountain. It had scared him to death. Loki wasn't ready by far, for one. But even if he was, Thorin couldn't send a dragon against those innocent people.

But he knew Loki too little to gauge whether he would do it on Thorin's order. The only way to ensure that such horror would not befall the lakemen and now elves, as well, was to take Loki's ability of shifting into a dragon. He couldn't take Loki's magic. But for that specific shape-shift, he knew for sure, Loki needed the ring. And that one he could steal. He was the company burglar, after all.

So we watched and waited, until Loki was fast asleep. Then timed to catch him alone. Someone always came by after a while to check up on him. He waited for the next to show up. After that he would have the most time. And then he went in. He searched the robe and tunic on the side first. But the ring wasn't in there. It had to be on Loki still. Damn it ! But he would find it without waking him.

That hadn't really worked with Smaug, but Loki was no dragon. Not at the time, at least. The he slowly drew back the blanket and tried not to retch at the terrible sight. Poor Loki. But he had to focus. So he checked the trousers. They had no pockets ? Then he noticed that the belt had little bulges. Who wore his belt to sleep, anyway ?

Someone hiding something precious in it. He felt the little bulges and one dented in the middle. The ring ! Carefully he opened the pocket and drew it out. Oh, beauty. But his blood ran cold, when all of a sudden a cool hand closed around his wrist and blood-red eyes looked up at him:"You would steal from me ?"

He grasped for anything to say in his panic:"It's mine, I only lent it to you."-"You did not say that then; as if you could ever use it to its full potential, in any case. But even then, you could have asked. Instead to try to steal it away at night."-"Yeeeah, but perhaps that I cannot use it like you is exactly the reason, why I should take it. You didn't look too happy about Thorin's idea, either. But I couldn't be sure about your acceptance, if I asked and then you would have been warned."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the hand let go:"Keep it safe. Keep it far away from anyone capable of using it. Especially wizards like Gandalf. It is a tempting power, but it is no good." He was honestly relieved. And he left feeling better than before, just turned one last time:"That red-eye-thing is kind of creepy, by the way."-"Purely practical, little hobbit. They see better in the dark. Now tread carefully, war lies ahead."

-  
It was a surprisingly long way to Dale, especially with his conversation with Bofur still lingering in his head. He wasn't actually fleeing out of fear, not that his job as in the contract wasn't somewhat over with the dwarves in possession of the mountain, but his mission was far more important than that. He was saving Thorin from himself, and the others from him, too.

Still, that he had let him go confirmed for him that dwarves really were more than just thick-headed and obsessed with their gold. They were so kind-hearted, as well. His mission was ever more important. Even when it got a bit difficult upon reaching Dale. The leader tent was hard to mistake, but even with the ring getting there unnoticed by all those men and elves, when his bare feet were so cold and numb from the long walk over wintery rock, took a bit of an effort.

He got there, though, just hearing from inside that the dwarves couldn't win. That much was obvious, but it didn't matter to Thorin and the rest would follow their king. He said so; a good opening, actually. And it drew everyone's attention. Gandalf's too. Gandalf was back ! But the Elvenking was present, too. Not overly pleasant.

He called him out on his deeds against him straightaway and he couldn't really deny them, but he had a gift of sorts and presented the Arkenstone. That changed the atmosphere and course of conversation a bit. A big bit.

Something he had said, though, somewhere around the fourteenth share, had changed the atmosphere yet again. Thranduil and Bard exchanged a look that even Gandalf didn't fully grasp. It got really awkward then, as they seemed to silently converse about who would do or say something they both would like to.

In the end, Bard lowered his eyes and the Elvenking haltingly asked:"The treasure is devided in fouteen parts ?"-"Yeahhh.?"-"Considering that there are thirteen dwarves already, has...Loki lost his claim on a part, when he didn't come with you on your little 'escape' from me or has something... happened to him ? I have heard of his fight with Smaug."

Of course ! That Loki got nothing could mean that he had succumbed to his wounds from Smaug and Thranduil and for some reason also Bard worried ! Certainly Thranduil would worry a lot, after what Loki had told him earlier. That the shape-shifter was not his number one priority apparently didn't mean that he was indifferent.

Realising the fear around, he intervened at once:"Oh no, he lives ! He is perfectly okay. He just never demanded a part, when he first joined us. He doesn't care for gold, but he's alright." Relief was immediate, but some doubt remained:"Perfectly okay after a fight with a firedrake ?"-"Well, there are a few ...erm lacerations ...and a few burns...erm, he also broke a couple bones, when he more crashed than landed back in front of Erebor."

Shock was on all the faces staring at him in disbelief and Thranduil just breathed:"Your idea of 'perfectly okay' does in fact vary from mine."-"You see, he healed some of that stuff already. He does have magic, after all. Now he just needs time and he is getting cared for."-"Thorin Oakenshield has a traitor cared for ?"

"He knows that it was Loki who defeated Smaug. And that he saved Kili's life. Well, Kili said that Tauriel did it, but Fili said that Kili wasn't aware of his surroundings by then and that Loki did at the very least a big part of it. So yes, he is getting cared for.

At hearing about Tauriel, even though he had already questioned Bard about that, Thranduil tensed again in silent anger, but everbody felt it still. That was not a good kind of silence; rather unease spreading through the room and getting everyone on edge. Against the pressing lack of words in the air, Bard asked:"What was it actually that Loki needed from you for his shape-shifting ? What kind of 'power source' and where is it now ?"

And now he felt caught. They were not supposed to know that, especially not Gandalf. But while Thranduil was merely curious, Gandalf was suspicious. He was always mistrustful about anything that had to do with Loki and that the stranger wanted something from him really didn't sit well with the wizard.

"Oh, erm.. that was nothin, a- a trinket, really. A supposed talisman I found in an old store-room back in Bag End. I never thought anything of it; certainly not what Loki saw in it, anyway. Buuut I don't have it anymore. When Loki used it, he used it up entirely. It burnt out. Sad really. Looked pretty. Some intricate woodwork. But now it's just ashes, wind blew them from Erebor last night. Sorry."

-

His story was actually accepted. No one expected him to know much about magical objects and that aided him then. With the last questions asked, the group soon dispersed and everyone went to sleep, or tried to at least. But rest was not easily found in the knowledge that the morrow might bring war. They could hope for peace, but only hope.

It gnawed at Bard, how many of those people that had followed him might wake for the next day as their last day. Thranduil no less. He didn't want any of his people to die. But he had no grave. And in every imagine in his memories his wife wore a necklace of moonlight white gems. It was only a symbol. But in being kept from it, he felt robbed of the last part he had been able to keep of her.

He worried about another as well, though. Loki had unknowingly hit a sore spot and he had punished his heart for it, knowing full well how much it would hurt. He shouldn't have. His wife was long dead and while he would forever keep her in his memories, he didn't want to be lonely forever.

And Loki was so... so wicked, witty and daring, but still graceful and dignified. He was a powerful warrior, but first and foremost a scholar. And he could not wipe from his inner eye the harrowing image his mind had created of his beautiful lover, bloodied and burnt, twisted into ghastly angles, displaying his shattered bones. Such a strong, young creature. If they met again at peace or in war, so he swore, he would make amends for wronging him and beg Loki's forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for 'The horror of war' around Thursday or Wednesday.


	11. The Horror of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title says it basically, in any case: The battle of the five(four at least so far) armies breaks lose and Loki really shouldn't fight in that state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the Extended Version (in case you can't seem to recall some things from Botfa; except for the changes due to Loki, of course.)  
> Also: Warning for Azog/Loki ahead ! But even if you don't like that sort of thing, do start to read normally. I put markers for the beginning and ending in, so you can just jump from one to the other, skipping the part of the scene.

When he woke, it was not to any specific noise. Instead Balin shook him awake with a look of fear in his eyes and Loki was up at once. He loosely threw his tunic and robe on and followed to find the others atop a completed wall, quite high up. And although it strained his chest, making him breathe heavily, he just had to climb up and was surprised.

Lakemen and elves, several hundred at least, were standing united as one army in front of them. Thranduil had joined Bard. Interesting. Loki almost broke down laughing as he imagined those two finding out. Did they know already ? Both where tense, but more likely because of Thorin than because of each other.

He really wished he could see or could have seen Thranduil's face at finding out. It better had stung. Then the elf spotted him, standing half in he shadows. The king went entirely rigid for a moment, unsettling his beautiful mount, then moved to say something, but Loki had no interest in hearing anything that Thranduil had to say.

He demonstratively raised his chin and looked away. In the corner of one eye he saw the elf slump together a bit. It didn't really hurt the selfish bastard, did it now ? But it did hurt. And the express rejection stole his resolve, his strength to speak up buried in regrets.

Bard spoke in his stead then, as he gathered himself. And the next time he looked, Loki was not to be seen anymore. Ironically, though, it was Thorin who reinforced his resolve, agitating him like no other could. What king would lead twelve into a war against hundreds ? His title was no privilege, it was duty and gave him responsibility for the well-being of his people. Was he such a miserable leader ?

Even the Arkenstone could not sway him. But he had to be beyond saving; Loki was immobile in disbelief, when he tried to fling the hobbit from the wall. But Bilbo got away, luckily. And even knowing that it was indeed his real Arkenstone, he would not accept. Instead he paced up and down like a wild beast in a small cage.

Something was there. Or not there. Then it struck him. The way Thorin kept looking to the eastern horizon. He was waiting impatiently for someone to come ! Reinforcements ? Oh, if Thorin got reinforcements from other dwarves, there would be a horrible war.

Thranduil's advice to keep the stone and sell it really was great. Both extremely funny – Loki had to seriously focus on suppressing his laughter – and strategic. If the Lakemen could get the same that Thorin was meant to give them elsewhere for the same price, then he was in zugzwang to win back their interest in giving it to him rather than the alternative.

Thorin's answer was less useful. But in the end his stalling payed. An army of dwarves arrived from the east. The elves immediately restructured their own army to face the enemy and the company cheered. Yet Loki was scared. Thorin would never believe him, but he had seen Azog's forces in Dol Guldur. The orc didn't know it, but he required no great army. He only had to wait for his prey to maul each other.

When the arrows of the elves clouded the sky, he worried for the dwarves. Just for a moment. When the dwarven ballistas sent their whirling amunition, shredding the arrows, he worried for the elves. And he was right to.  
He almost pitied Thranduil then, horror plain in his face, as his people were hit by the strange weapons. Elves were graceful warriors, that he knew even from home. But dwarves were smiths and engineers, often inventors also in the machinery of war.

When their armies clashed the strategic and synchronised elves could really fight, but the dwarves' horned cavalry was a force to be reckoned with also. He looked over to Kili then and saw devastation at the war of elves and dwarves. In Fili's eyes, too, and not even all on his brother's behalf. They shouldn't fight.

But then the very ground was shaken and the enemy forces caught all eyes. What creatures ! To his enourmous relief, they did not fight. Perhaps they could bear hard rock in their bellies, but not sharpened steel cutting their gut walls like birds that swallowed gravel to aid their digestion replacing the missing teeth of mammals, but could die of internal bleedings, if a shard got among them. Wether that was the reason or anything else, he was just really glad.

Also the orcs were hated by both far worse than either hated the other. And nothing united like a mutual enemy. So, even when Thranduil first hesitated, likely debating to recall his soldiers and return to the safer forest, both who had been enemies a moment ago now fought side by side. Men, too. Wow. Men, elves and dwarves against the orcs. Four armies at war.

-

The company wanted to join the fray. They readied themselves, but Thorin said no. Without explanation, just no. Loki hoped that it was worry for his friends and companions. But it didn't look like it. It looked like he was just not Thorin anymore. That Thorin, who had attacked Azog on the foothills of the Misty Mountains, not even thinking about the chances that prophesied his defeat.

Now he didn't look at the commander twice. Loki wanted to fight, but he knew that he didn't have the strength. Not so soon after Smaug. He watched it all, saw scales tipping slowly in favour of the orcs, but couldn't do anything.

  
He saw Kili, too. The young dwarf was so willing to fight. He had probably never seen a real battle from the inside. It wasn't honour and glory. A real battle was only enjoyed by those that thirsted for blood or were addicted to the adrenalin. There were always also those that were only terrified and hacked at incomming enemies desperately in their often futile attempt to just stay alive.

The most condigned kind of warrior – to Loki – was the battle-scarred, grimly determined kind that considered fighting a necessity for family or folk, but neither liked nor utterly feared it. Many of the elves seemed like the kind. But then, the elves' average age was more than ten times the dwarves' or humans'. Maybe he was just getting old to think like that.

But suddenly, something unexpected happened. The dwarves' looking up had him look up, too, and he saw Thorin. But the Thorin returning as not the one that had left. This one had clear, determined eyes. Had it worked ? Loki had never really believed the 'curse' of the gold hoard to have anything to do with actual curses, but rather the temptation that riches always posed towards the greedy hearts of mortals and not too few immortals.

Therefore his low-level counter-spells against mind-affecting curses, mostly against weaker mindcontrol, artficial hangovers and migraines, as well as sense disorientation, had been a bit half-hearted. But wether by clrearing his prorities without magical involvement or freed from an actual curse, Thorin was Thorin again and he told them to pull up the great bell.

-

And it was heavy, but when they crashed, the entire wall broke apart, its chunks replacing the destroyed bridge and the dwarves stormed out. He shouldn't fight and didn't plan to, but with everyone else outside, he couldn't stay behind either. So, in the shape of a bird, he sailed out above them.

As bird he could oversee the entire battlefield and aid his companions on occasion. Sometimes he would fly by just in front of an enemy's eyes and confuse or disctract them for a moment. Other times he would draw a companion's attention to an incoming enemy they were oblivious to with a simple screeching sound from the enemy's direction. They would look at the noise and see the danger, so they could fight it.

Then he saw a trollish kind of creature with maces attachted to its arms. Bofur, Bifur, Bombur and Gloin had sourrounded the devastating beast and tried to stab its legs to bring it down for the killing, but they constantly had to duck away from hits themselves and weren't really landing any. Loki beheld the strangely well aiming thing, and then saw it a slave.

An orc sat on its back directing the in fact blinded beast, but using the greater as his weapon, he himself was not armed. And that was also a weakspot. Unseen from above he sailed down at the orc, beak and claws first.  
The idiot did not what was happening, as he hacked open the orc's throat, gushing black blood, but the troll-creature did not have directions anymore and the dwarves moved in. Loki rose again, only just hearing Bofur stop them for a better plan, using the troll rather than killing it, then he was out of reach again.

He flew to Dale, just to check up on Bilbo, who going by the faint calling of the ring from there had to be in the city ruin. But flying over the gate, he was shocked. Immediately he landed. There the twisted and broken body of Thranduil's stag lay, dark arrows jutting out from its chest. The poor poor creature. But relieved he noted that Thranduil was not buried beneath it. An overturning mount of such size could easily have squashed its rider.

But then, why should he care ? That Thranduil could have been hurt had touched him far too deeply. He wasn't worth the worry. Angry at himself he rose again and from afar saw a single goat and a chariot move up the side of the battle-field in the general direction of that hill that Azog gave his orders from. Oh.

He followed swiftly and indeed it was Thorin on the goat. The chariot held both his nephews, as well as Balin and Dwalin, and it was ingenious. From the older, but still extremely effective milling spikes on the wheelhubs to the surprisingly progressive bolt magazines. Loki was ever more amazed by the short mortals. Perhaps this 'Endor' as Thranduil had called it was not as retarded as he had first thought it to be, after all.

But even though the oversized wolves diminished their supply of goats and they had to leave the chariot behind, with Balin still on it, they made their way up the hill and immidiately encountered more orcs. But something was wrong. The next time Loki looked for him, Azog was gone. He would have seen them coming, of course. But flee ? Loki doubted it and didn't like that one bit.

From bird perspective, however, nothing could be seen. He flew even higher, but no matter how far he looked in every direction, Azog was nowhere to be seen. He had to still be there. Was he hiding ? Loki flew lower again and then Azog's voice echoed the ruins. Thus ends the line of Durin ? Loki was terrified and shot towards the origin of the voice. Azog was holding Fili, about to stab him and he sped towards them as fast as he could.

And he heard that horrible sound of metal, forcibly parting flesh, just before impact. But the stab was cut short still, and Fili fell with a deep slash. Loki followed him and caught him before he crashed into the ground. But the dwarf was heavy and both quickly went down. They wouldn't break any bones from that, the fall not that far and slowed, too, but it was a rough landing and Fili still had a gaping wound in his back that could very well kill him.

Azog was outraged and ordered the falcon dead, but Kili and Thorin were both running for him. However, once there, seeing Fili motionless with such a wound, they both thought him dead and went mad with rage against Azog. And both turned to run for Azog and slay him. But Loki felt the weak pulse and while Kili got past him, he managed to stall Thorin for a moment, shape-shifting back to Asgardian in front of him.

"Feel it, Thorin, he lives ! But you have to stay. Oh you idiot ! Orcs are coming and if you dare leave him alone and unprotected now, then you might as well bury him ! I'm getting Kili back." Thorin got it and grabbed Fili, getting a weak mumbling reaction. He rejoiced and pulled his nephew behind a rock to give them cover, then took to guard him. Because orcs did come.

By then, however, Loki was already off to retrieve Kili. The idiot. And he had to fight some orcs on the way, but he was swift and never short of daggers. Then, all of a sudden, the sky darkened as huge bats passed them. Loki was really glad then not to be a bird in the air anymore. He wouldn't have wanted to be met by those winged killers.

Trying to always keep beneath something to avoid being seen by them he went on searching for Kili. And it certainly felt like it took ages. Perhaps it actually did. He certainly cursed the vibrant boy – not magically, of course – rather many times for running off like that. Even his literally coltish son had never been this rash.

But finally he saw him. And bypassing various orcs he also got to him. That done he first of all pulled Kili to a more secluded side and hissed some sense into him:"Kili, you blundering idiot, your brother needs you, he is wounded, perhaps dying ! But you can save him still, if you come with me now. Thorin is guarding him for now, but he is all alone. Help them or both are going to die today."

And Kili hardly considered it for half a second:"Show me where they are !" So they could run back to Thorin and Fili. There was, however, a faint noise like a call that sounded remotely female and Kili fell back. "Did you hear that ?" Loki could have slain him in exasperation. What did it matter ? They were standing in the open and really shouldn't linger. "Come now !"-"I'm coming, just a moment !"

"Kiiiliii !" And he looked frigid where the echo had come from. Loki was ready to forcibly drag him now. All because of Tauriel ? But looking back he had not time enough to react and Kili was just not watching, too distracted by that bloody elf. So the spiked club hit the dwarf full on, Bolg growling happily at throwing Kili to the floor with an outcry. And when the orc pulled his hideous weapon away to raise it again for the next hit, blood was streaming from it. And Loki knew the cost of energy would make it his last great move, but the orc's size, strength and wicked armour left him no other option to save them both.

Ravishing his reserves he jumped at Bolg and in that jump turned shape. The size of the orc could not keep him from stumbling back as all of a sudden a great black stag rammed into him. Some of the pointed ends of the antlers even got past his armour plates, then the head tossed and hit his head with one antler's side. The orc was disoriented and Kili had managed to half stand again.

That was the moment. Luckily Kili got the message of looking over his shoulder with his back lowered. He mounted and after one final hit with his horns towards Bolg he bolted. Kili was weighing down on him and the body that different from the bird-shape was bigger than his own drained him. He found the place where Fili still lay and since Kili immediately dismounted, he could turn back.

But while Fili was still there, Thorin wasn't. Instead there were Tauriel trying to help him, at the sight turning to Kili, and Legolas shooting bats from atop the rock. Both looked to him and he answered and asked:"Bolg. He will still be after us."- which Legolas took as a que to go meet him with an expression like they had unfinished business -"Where is Thorin ?"-"When we came he told us to stay here for guard and that you would bring Kili here."

  
That would explain why they had listened, Tauriel waiting for Kili and Legolas watching over her, but not why Thorin had left:"Yes, but where did Thorin go then ?"-"To kill Azog as he had planned." Oh those obnoxious dwarves ! Did he have to run after each and every one of them ?

-

Again he went to search the ruins. For Azog and Thorin this time. Preferibly in reverse order, though. But luck was not on his side then. In the middle of the ruins he suddenly heard a sniff behind himself and just managed to jump to the side as the white warg snapped for him. Well, at least she wasn't helping Azog fight Thorin again.

But she was a force on her own and Loki needed all his swiftness and agility to avoid her jaws and paw swipes. His icy daggers simply didn't have the reach. So he dove to the side and jumped and dove again to the other side, ducked and jumped back, hitting a wall. His healing back didn't thank him for it and he groaned from the pain, but it also lead the warg to jump at him.

The white warg likely thought that he was hopeless, literally with his back up against the wall. But the animal thought wrong. He ducked in the last moment, her jaws hitting only the stone wall, teeth breaking out with a cracking noise. And that had her throat just above him. He drew a short spear from his inner cold and before she could pull back, it was imbedded in her body. Ripping it out he just let the blood run free. She howled, mewled really, in the most pitiful way, but her body collapsed in a growing pool of her own blood.

Loki was relieved at having survived her, but he was shaking from exhaustion. Even his jotunn magic was dwindling and reaching for the casket would take a lot, as well. You don't just reach into a pocket dimension without effort or cost. But his situation was much direr. That howl had been heard by someone who knew the animal's voice.

Loki took a much needed moment of rest, his eyes on the dead warg and mind on her master, when with a sudden roar a big, clawed hand grabbed him by the throat and he just saw Azog face before his head was banged into the next wall and everything went black for a moment.

He came back to his senses, somewhat, but all was just bleary images and was that the wall against his back ? No, it was hot and wet, a bit viscous. What was wrong with the wall ? But it wasn't a wall. It was the ground with the warg's drying blood on it. He was lying on his back on the ground. Why again ?

Then he saw Azog reaching for him with a malicious smirk on his fanged mouth and without thinking turned Jotunn, concentrating his cold into his skin to frostbite him on touch. And the orc did jerk back, but then just hit him across the face, sending his mind reeling again. He was already concussed and now only worse off. He lost concentration, could not keep his skin freezing and Azog noticed fast.

_– (warning, if necessary jump to all-clear) –_

The next he felt was a shift in temperature. Was it colder ? His vision showed only whitish blurs, his hearing even less. Just muffled, dull rumbling. But it surely was the feeling of wind. On his bare skin ? He abruptly recalled the last moments and fought. He hit and kicked at everything within his reach at once. Or he would have. His breath caught realising that his clothes were in tatters and that the orc nicknamed the defiler was kneeling between his spread thighs.

He absolutely had to concentrate and he could still get out. But his thoughts went wild at the feel of Azog's hand gripping his hips and dragging him closer. Kicking beside him was no use and hitting the metal armour would only hurt. He needed his magic ! He just had to concentrate, but he could already feel the monster's hardness. No, he couldn't think about that, he had to concentrate. But he could feel a clawed finger dig into his folds, his Jotunn form showing both his genders.

No, goal-oriented thinking, he needed magic or cold, but he couldn't even breathe. It's not going to happen, it's not real, I'm getting out, he kept telling himself. But his erratic flaing was useless and magic impossible to reach through the chaos in his head. He was hyperventilating and and his consciousness drifting again.

But he was jerked back into reality with a bloodcurdling scream as the defiler tore into him like a black arrow, ripping him apart from the inside. Because is was real and he was not getting out. No pushing at the armoured chest could stop, not even slow, even just one ripping stab. For it was stabbing. And he could see the pleasure in the monster's eyes as his blood mingled with the warg's underneath them.

He wondered briefly, wether the orc could really split him in half, because it certainly felt like it. As if he was a tree log, getting hacked at with an axe again and again and ever again, until he finally broke in two. But he couldn't change it. His arms had tired and he didn't want to move his legs any more than the defiler's thrusts already jolted him across the bloody floor. It would only hurt more.

And limiting his pain was the best he could do. Limiting his pain and waiting for it to end. Hoping for it to end soon. He did know that the end would likely be his death. Unless the orc wanted to keep him for further use or wished to show him off before killing him. But he wished the end in any case, even if it meant his execution. He felt his tears flowing faster at the thought, but he really didn't want a life of this.

At long last the movements of that monster grew even more erratic and he finished in a burning hot spray. But to Loki's shock, he didn't flag afterwards. His foul grin widened at Loki's expression, but he remained hard and even thrust again. Would his hell not end ?

_– (all-clear) –_

Then suddenly, Azog cried out in pain and both stared at his good arm  where a gap had opened on the top and another exactly beneath, black blood running down the outlines of ... of a shortsword. An invisible fighter with a shortsword, Bilbo had come, he wasn't alone ! And he was not going to die. The shortsword was ripped out again as the orc lunged with his sword arm, but the invisible was not to be spotted.

Azog looked around wildly. He didn't want to let go of his victim, but couldn't fight someone he didn't even see. Loki, however, silently cheered. He hadn't even noticed the ring near, but now felt it clearly. He had help. And Azog was distracted, scanning the ruin for his attacker. But that both heartened Loki again, returning his will from its wreckage and it gave him precious time.

He centred himself, drawing on his mind's reserves and took a deep breath. Thus he focused all his cold and concentrated it into one single part of his anatomy. Half a moment later Azog resiled from him with a screech and stumbled back still, cradling his tortured crotch. Loki could see it bathed in violet blood, but he also saw the flesh, blackened from pure, devastating cold. In general, frostbite could heal with the help of magic or medicine over time. But certain kinds of tissue, eyes for one, would once deadened by the cold, never regain their functionality. Azog would defile no more.

And he actually laughed at the poetic justice. It was a hollow laugh, though, without any mirth in it. Still it attracted the orc's wrathful attention. And Loki bolted. It was agony, but he wanted to live. And there he saw the edge of the hill. And he jumped. Azog would not follow him like this.

He gave up his body for the smaller one of a bird, but it still drained him far too much. The blood loss would have a part in it, too, but the why was less relevant to him, as he found no more strength to lift himself up. His wings kept him from falling, but it wouldn't be a far flight and there were only orcs ahead. He hoped they wouldn't acknowledge him and Azog would not get down the hill quickly enough to see his landing. But he could use a helping hand.

Azog didn't get down from Ravenhill quickly. In fact, not at all. He ran for the path down, across the frozen river, but was stopped. In the middle of the river, Thorin Oakenshield was expecting him. And they readily fought, as did Bolg and Legolas so close.

But the orcs did acknowledge Loki. Yet he truly wasn't alone. Someone he knew and who knew him as a shape-shifter saw the strange falcon gliding down and turned on the spot to go back and save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I do hope that it wasn't too horrible, meaning both content and writing.  
> And in case someone could think that: I really don't hate Loki or feel the need to hurt him, but this was necessary; it allows (i.e. makes plausible) various events of the future that I really want to have, but could not elsewise justify, except by seriously wobbly plot conveniences; and with future I mean beyond the point where Loki talks about it in 'scars are the reminders of wounds long healed'., though that states part of it.  
> Also prepare for 'Aftermath of changes' around Saturday afternoon, or early morning if you live on the other side of the Atlantic.  
> One more thing: Can you guess who sees Loki ? :)


	12. Aftermath of changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle climaxes and ends, but its consequences reach further both to the negative and the positive (for some).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partly book related. The eagles, however, I could not properly explain - without the book version of the first eagle rescue, at least - nor leave out or it wouldn't be the 'five' armies. So I'm taking the film's aproach on that. They are there because they are there.

He was already leaving to get his remaining people into safety, but Gandalf's words stung still. Legolas, however, cared only for his stupid girl. Duty and family were no values to him anymore and Thranduil didn't know how to repair that broken bridge without letting his people pay the price. They had paid too much already.

  
He just looked back to Ravenhill one last time, where his son would be going at the moment. But he saw someone else. He saw a falcon not seeming like an animal. What would a falcon do there, anyway ? And looking up he saw the rough outlines of an orc at the same edge that the falcon would have come from, before it ran off.

  
And then it all snapped together. The orc made to follow the falcon, for it was none, but a person. And he knew exactly one person with the ability to shape-shift like that. Without thinking, he turned and ran for the sinking bird. His soldiers were a bit confused, but followed their king. And through lines of orcs he reached Loki, landed in a heap of feathers.

  
And he, too, saw the Elvenking and immediately turned back to his natural shape to speak, but his voice was just not strong enough and he remained unheard. Thranduil did not need to hear, though. He had never seen Loki as a Jotunn and was at first a bit shocked, but in the end the plain truth was that Loki was a shape-shifter, so it didn't really matter what he could look like. What did matter, however, was that his once lover was naked and bloodied in unequivocal places.

  
He was horrified, but something else snapped into place then. The outlined orc atop Ravenhill had had a blade in place of one forearm. He had seen that before. And he knew who was responsible for Loki's defilement. Wrath boiled within him and he silently swore to make sure not to let that abominable crime go unpunished.

  
"Captain, take him to the wounded, have him treated at once and return home to safety."-"My king ? What about you ?"-"I have private business on Ravenhill. Go, none of you need to die for my selfish desire for revenge." And he made to move, but then heard his captain speak again:"Have him brought to the wounded and treated as he king said. Anyone else who is with me on this, follow !"

  
"What are you doing ?"-"My king, I think I speak for more than myself, but at the very least it is certainly my selfish desire to die side by side with my most honourable king, rather than to run home and let him die alone. Who will lead us if not you, my king ? We are a dead people, if we lose our head. And a foul one, too, if we allow it to come to that in cowardice. Please, let us come with you."

  
Thranduil was touched, but worried also:"Any time you wish, you are free to leave." Then they moved up Ravenhill. There were still many orcs all around, but they were not halted, slaying through any in their path. Thus they hurried on and soon heard sounds of a single fight. That was their new direction and they came upon a duel between leaders.

  
Azog was dripping wet, but above Thorin, whose strength was failing. He had Orcrist – didn't Legolas have that last ? He dearly hoped that it had been lent or gifted, not grabbed from a body that wouldn't need it anymore. But first he had more urgent business than hypothetical concerns. Azog was already enjoying his nearing victory. And after what Azog had already had, he would not allow the orc this second satisfaction.

  
He leapt gracefully past the orc that looked up distractedly at movement in its peripheral vision, then plunged his sword through the monster's back. And the orc roared and tried to swipe at him with its sword arm. But that freed Thorin, so Orcrist went under the plates and into Azog's belly, moving up to surface again from the beast's throat.

  
Azog did not swipe again after that. And they pulled their swords out again, letting the orc sink to its knees, before in unison splitting the defiler by neck and waist. Azog, then, was surely dead.

 

-

  
"Strange. You didn't just stand there watching, but helped a dwarf ?"-"You must be delighted then, to see me improved. And knowing your cousin, I will be glad to call you my neighbour, king Thorin."-"Dain wouldn't be king if I died. First in line would be... Fili and Kili !" Immediately the dwarf ran, or at least limped quickly. And albeit a little crossed at the discourtesy of having been left standing in the middle of a conversation, he followed, his soldiers after him.

  
They found the dwarves, admittedly barely, but still alive, with Tauriel desperately working to keep them so and Legolas watching over them. He was alright then, but surprised to see his father. At a slight wink from their king, those of his soldiers with some knowledge of healing aided Tauriel's mission and Thorin was visibly grateful.

  
A moment later, though, another dwarf and the hobbit came running, shouting at them about moving. Had they wanted to, they couldn't have. The wounded were in no state to travel, they would almost certainly not survive the jolty way down without so much as a handbarrow.

  
Alarmed, however, Thorin asked Dwalin what the shouting was all about and paled at the news. The army of the orcs had been the biggest from the start; Now reinforcements were coming to join its numbers ? Even with the addition of the elves they couldn't win that.

  
But this time, at least those elves did stay. They moved into formation as they heard the orcs near and Thranduil pulled his son in for a kiss on the forehead, whispering something private in elvish.

  
The prince seemed shocked at the display of affection, but then the king turned to his captain:"If we lose, you will take my son out of here. Whether he agrees or not. One of us has to survive for the people and I won't live to see her child die."

  
Legolas really didn't have a quiet day and made to argue, but the orcs were coming and they all had bigger problems. Masses of those foul beasts were moving in to attack, far too many of them, but then there was a faint screeching of birds. And all were pushed several steps by the wind as dozens of eagles whooshed overhead to attack the orcs.

  
They looked around in wonder. Below, the bats that had plucked their kin from the field like weed out of a garden were now getting plucked and crushed themselves. And in front of them, the rows of the orcs were getting ploughed.

  
So many eagles together, where they usually came in couples for each eyrie. Such a horde now, an army almost, fighting this battle with them. A fifth army to tip the scales. With a battlecry now they charged the sieved orc reinforcements and with the additional help of a huge bear, erased them all to emerge victorious.

  
-

  
After the battle had ended, huge fires were set all around Dale on the disgusting heaps to get rid of the stinking bodies of orcs, trollish and other beasts, before the vapours of their decay poisoned any of the survivors. For they were few. Not half of those that had gone into the battle, had come out again. And more than half of those required medical attention.

  
Not all was urgent, but should be seen to. So the healers worked day and night, while the sky blackened from the smoke of the dead. Also the dead of men were burnt, each on their own pyre for the sake of their dignity, but they couldn't be left lying around in the open air. And their families wept dearly, but saw themselves all the more encouraged to help the treatment of the wounded.

  
No more should have to die, especially seeing as the actual battle was already over. And many were soon released from the central halls in which the healers worked on their many patients. Those who were capable of doing so mostly helped them or built pyres. But under Bard's organisation some had also started rebuilding the ruined city. The harsh winter demanded homes with roofs and they wanted to repopulate the city of men.

  
The dwarves under Dain, for Thorin might have been treated already, but wouldn't abandon his nephews, worked to make Erebor inhabitable again. They stabilised insecure tunnels for most and cleared out the long dead among many other things. Thranduil did not check too closely. He stayed by Loki's bedside.

  
Some healer's were scared of him for the strange colouring, but touching him didn't hurt. And Thranduil felt the need to make sure that he would be helped no less just because he looked different and felt a little cold.  
He also felt driven to know of every change the very second it occurred. It was just like Thorin was about his beloved nephews. Perhaps Loki was like family to him, after all, and he just realised it only now. The thought made him smile and he stayed on.

  
On the third day, Kili woke. All the dwarves and Thorin above them all were delighted. They had already buried their first dead in the deep caverns of Erebor and now rejoiced that this one would not have to join those. Instead Kili then joined Thorin's sullen watch on Fili. He should stay with the healers for a few more days, anyway.

  
Tauriel tried to talk to him in that time, but he wouldn't go out to see her and the dwarven guards would not permit her into the seperate space reserved for royals. Only the healers moved freely. And the royals. Loki was in his own seperated space therein. And sometimes Bilbo and the other companions came in – with permission – to check up on Fili and him.

  
Even Gandalf did, though Thranduil still didn't like the distrustful way in which he eyed Loki. Worse was, however, that Loki still wouldn't wake. A day after Kili, Fili woke up. He needed to remain very still for his wound to heal, but all the dwarves were greatly relieved; only Thranduil worried more. Loki's wounds had objectively speaking not been as grave as Fili's, but he was still motionless.

  
Especially grateful for his role in their survival the brothers worried, too. Even after Thorin had hesitantly left, needed as king by his people. But Loki lay still even a week into his treatment, until the healers did nothing anymore. Thranduil was outraged first, thinking that they had given up on him for whatever reasons, and confronted the next healer within his reach.

  
The questioned elf, however, answered only:"Forgive, my king, but he is healed. Physically he is in perfect condition. We see no reason for him not to awaken. Perhaps it is a healing sleep natural to his race. We have no experience with that kind. Perhaps... forgive, but it is possible that damage to his mind is the reason. Knowing the ...nature of his wounds, he might also just not want to wake again. But in either case, my king, we are powerless to bring about any change."

 

-

 

Knowing him to be highly magical, Thranduil finally considered asking a wizard for help, but he just couldn't trust Gandalf with Loki. Then he remembered that the eagles had brought more than a bear. A wizard, too, who lived in Mirkwood even. So he ordered a guard to let no-one, not even the grey wizard, close and went in search of Radagast the Brown.

  
It took him all morning, but he found the wizard and found him willing to help, as well:"Loki ? Of course, of course, I would be delighted ! Gandalf has told me so much about him."-"I doubt there was much good in it, comming from Gandalf and concerning Loki ?"-"He said that he could shape-shift into any creature from falcon to bear and even a dragon. Personally, I find that most interesting. People never mind the animals, but he could teach them differently. Once he wakes, that is."

  
So Radagast followed him and once there, he ordered any potential witness out, so the wizard could work in quiet, without people staring. But Radagast's expression changed during his examination in ways that had Thranduil's heart hammer at thrice its usual pace with worry. And when he couldn't bear not knowing what was wrong any longer, he asked breathlessly:"What has turned you so grim ? What is it ? Is he dying ?"

  
"No, I fear he is not." First he was relieved to hear it, then wondered tensely:"And how is that bad ?"-"Because Gandalf might have been right about not trusting him."-"Why would you say that ?"-"Because death is in his air." Thranduil was shocked, had the wizard not just said that Loki was not about to die ?

  
Seeing his reaction, Radagast clarified:"Uh, I don't mean that. He is really not dying. I rather think that he already has." Now Thranduil saw why many rather asked for Gandalf's advice than that of the more addled Brown who loved nature so much. "His heart is beating and he breathes still. He lives."-"Surely he does, I didn't think otherwise." Perhaps he really should have asked Gandalf for help.

  
Finally Radagast spoke understandibly, but all the more shocking for it:"What I mean is that he has died, but lives again. I am sorry, but I think he might have undergone necromancy."-"No. He lives. He still lives, not again."-"Are you su-"-"I know it for sure."-"If that is true, it is even worse than I thought."-"How so ? Would you just speak plainly ?"

  
Radagast appeared to dither for a bit, but at last he said:"Loki has for certain had contact to the beyond, the world of the dead, but if not because he was returned from there after dying, than by reaching into it to pull another out. He could be a necromancer also. Not the one of Dol Guldur, but it is a horrid and either evil or mad practise in any case."

  
That was truly even worse. But Thranduil could not believe it:"Is there no other way ? He is a great mage, but not evil, is there absolutely no way to have gotten that 'air of death' by accident, perhaps practising some other kind of magic and misstepping just a bit ?"

  
"Well, not tha- Ouh ! Yes, there is ! Scrying, perhaps."-"I am no fool, but not of your kind, either. How exactly ?"-"Well, if had tried to scry on someone, magically spy another out over any distance, but that person had already been dead, then a very powerful, but inexperienced sorcerer might have misinterpreted the upcomming hinderance and broken it, getting a glimpse of his target in the world of the dead."

  
"So that way, Loki could have gotten that air innocently ?"-"That could innocently give an air of death indeed, but not Loki's. Or at least, I don't think so. It is possible, but doubtful. He is bathed in it, as if he had fully been there. But even I am no expert in that, if there is one at all. So we may only assume it."-"We do. He is no necromancer and even less a wraith."

  
Radagast's silence spoke his doubt loudly enough, but Thranduil very well remembered that he had not brought the wizard in for that:"Still, as I had orgininally asked: Why does he not wake up ?"-"Oh don't you worry about that. He just needs rest to gather energy. Considering how drained he was and is now, I guess he'll need several more days, a week perhaps, or two. But he'll get there. Just be patient. And elf should be."

  
Radagast left then and was immediately faced with thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. Gandalf also. He told them that Loki was certain to live and that they could go visit him, which they did at once, to Gandalf he spoke in private about his other findings. But Thranduil at Loki's side was swarmed to his immense displeasure. He stayed with him still. For Loki, he could tolerate even dwarves.

  
Time crawled after that. Erebor and Dale were making progress, all the dead were treated each in their culture's ways, the orc fires burnt out and their ashes flown away and ever more wounded were healed. By the first change in Loki's state, the healing halls, formerly crammed, were only half full anymore. But that change was only that his eyes had started moving beneath their lids, hinting at dreams.

-

  
In the end, it did take one and a half weeks, but Thranduil didn't even notice it at first. He had spent too long just sitting and waiting and watching the sleeping. When Loki woke, Thranduil was asleep. It was funny. To Loki. The proud Elvenking who always held himself with such a regal stance was now half sitting in a simple chair half draped across his bed.

  
Without waking the other he stood, his body thanking him for it after lying for far too long, and noted that he was still in his Jotunn form. A pity, everyone would have seen him when visting him in his healing room, but the dwarves had seen him already before he had shape-shifted into a dragon to fight Smaug. Wait, a healing room ? Where was he and why ? Then the great battle came back to him. And Azog.

  
The horrorfilled memories assault his mind like storm of hurt and ripped him out of reality to take him back there. It's over, it's long over, I'm safe, he kept telling himself. But by the time every part of his mind believed and accepted that, he was on the ground and someone was touching him from behind. Shocked he lashed out, adding frost to get the other off. Yet the voice of the outcry that followed was a familiar one. And as wild steps hurried closer, he turned to see the Elvenking cowering.

  
Thranduil was trembling low on his knees, his expensive sleeve falling in stiff scraps from him to reveal the flesh of his hand and arm blackened underneath. That had not been his intention. But the elf's outcry had not gone unheared and now alarmed elven guards, puzzled dwarves and two wizards entered, one of which unsettled, the other determinedly offensive.

  
Bilbo squezzed between them also and added to the shock of the dwarves; they looked at him with such disappointment over his apparent turning of sides that he just saw Odin everywhere all over again. And it enraged him, intesifying his freezing temperature.

  
No-one ever understood him or even considered his perspective. They all saw only the worst in him. It drove him mad ! And when the guards approached that was just the last straw. He roaringly shouted:"Get back !" and let spikey icicles jut out of his skin, making his appearance even more terrifying.

  
At once the elven guards and now both wizards aimed their spears and staffs at him, but Thranduil intevened. The guards immediately retracted their weapons and took a neutral stance, even though the order had been little more than a pained breath, hardly discernible as 'no'.

  
However, it had Loki turn in confusion. He had injured him greatly and kept his kin away. Why would Thranduil call his people off ? "Forgive me... for my cruel words that I didn't mean and would not consider to be actually true. And for no doubt startling you into this defence attack that has brought you such trouble."

  
At that, the last tension left the latecomers, except for Gandalf who would perhaps never trust Loki. And Loki himself remembered why he had once chosen Thranduil. They all had only seen his attack. The Elvenking who was in fact the one who had fallen victim to him, saw his reason and asked for his forgiveness instead of expecting him to do so only to refuse it then. He let the icicles disappear again and even smiled a little.

  
Then he summoned his Aesir form back, drawing all the cold as deep as possible inside. His skin warmed and he kneeled beside Thranduil, tentatively taking the injured hand into his now warmer own. All craned their heads to see, as he still cautiously – in case it hurt too much – drew one greenly gleaming finger over Thranduil's shoulder joint and saw instant relief on the elf's formerly pain-distorted face. His whole arm, however, slumped.

  
That made some uneasy, but Loki knew what he was doing and Thranduil trusted him. Even though he had absolutely no feeling in his arm anymore and could not move it at all, either. Perhaps Loki had magically cut a nerve bundle or something. It meant pain relief for him and easier work for Loki, since he wouldn't twitch on touch or tremble from strained muscles.

  
Afterwards Loki did some gleaming while caressing the deadened skin and it lightened again. Not completely, but it didn't look half as horrid as before. Except from the outer layers of skin that peeled off. But Loki just rid him of the peeled off skin and traced the remaining with magic to replace what was missing. Then he tipped his shoulder again and, while feeling returned to the Elvenking, looked up at a bit uncertainly.

  
He flexed his arm and fingers sucessfully and found it not really hurting anymore, so he grinned at his healer and graced the approval-seeking, albeit a bit shy and extremely cute look, with a "Thank you" to see the green eyes light up again. Several relieved sighs could be heared, as well, and the gathering went each their own ways, while talking avidly about their impressions.

  
Loki left, too. He had wanted to talk to him in private, but Loki was already out, he did still see him talking to Thorin's nephews and overheard "You two look much better now, it has been a while, has it not ?"-"Sure, you were asleep for ages !"-"I just wanted to make sure. You could have died up there."

  
Slightly embarrassed and with a strange guilt in his voice, Kili answered this time:"We know. Thank you."-"Never mind, it's just natural: All as one against the orcs. I did still want to ask, though, since I was out for a bit and might not be up to date anymore, how your ...something with Tauriel went ?"

  
"I have..erm.. not really talked all that much to her since the battle. Not exactly at all."-"How come ?"-"I have something to say, but I don't know how to say it."-"All are fools, when in love. She would forgive any crude wording."-"I don't really think that she will forgive my words."-"Well, what do you want to express ? Maybe I can help."-"Erm... I guess I might have to ...in a way... break her heart."

  
Fili, Loki and Thranduil then had an identical reaction of eyebrows jumping up their foreheads. All thinking: What ? Loki advised him still:"You have to talk to her. Be honest, but don't call it her fault. She will only get futilely hopeful, thinking she can change for you, just to have her heart broken again, when that hope dies. But do tell her the reason. She won't let go without. And talk to her soon and, even if its hard, tell her in person."

 

-

  
He did, both Thranduil and Loki listening in. Tauriel's eyes teared up, but he kept strong:"I am truly sorry and I love you with all my heart, but it is wrong. On Ravenhill I heard your call and, Tauriel, I stopped running. I swayed !"-"But it only proves your love ! Why would you turn away from me now ?"-"Because I had been running for my half-dead brother. I feel like I abandoned him, I mean he could really have died !"

  
He tried several times for that one, finally brokenly managing:"Fili was always there for me. Always by my side. He would never have just stopped, when running for me. And I am sorry, but you did decide against me first. And you were right to. You have a duty and it would not be honourable of either of us to let you forsake it. But even if you did, which I do not wish, I could never forsake my duty to my uncle, my king, and to my brother. My love, my heart cannot be all yours. I cannot banish all my kin from it for you."

  
He stepped a single step away from her and the dam broke in her eyes, she fiddled for something in her pouch and held a little pebble out for him, looking away already. He took it with a mumbled 'Thank you' and she stormed off openly weeping. Loki would have felt sorry for her, knowing the family argument all too well himself. But seriously, they had met a total of two times before the battle. And not even like his and Thranduil's meetings. All fools in self-diagnosed pseudo-love.

  
Not half an hour later Tauriel stormed around again, attracting some attention. Her point of origin had been Legolas this time. Who, now, looked as crestfallen as a kicked and rained on poodle puppy. Loki had to seriously suppress bubbling over with laughter. After that he overheared a conversation between a finally accepting Legolas and his father. He wanted to leave for a while. To work everything through in peaceful solitude.

  
"You should go north and find the Dunedain."-"Humans, when you call a dwarf's life irrelevant for being short ?"-"You should know how far the lives of the western can lead. But even then, these last weeks have shown how much can happen in even the shortest spans of time. Go and grow wise. Your mother would have wanted you to see some of the world. A wanderer in her footsteps. Just: Be careful. I could not bear to survive you, as well."

  
-

  
After some more time of preparation, the big day was upon them. The master of Laketown would, even if he had been found, not have been accepted to rule Dale. It was basically a kingdom of men, after all. Therefore voices had risen early and intensified since, that the heir of Girion who had had the courage to oppose Smaug, and who still had a black arrow and who had led them into Dale, might take that position instead.

  
By now and by the vast majority's choice, Bard was to be crowned king of Dale. Beside his own people, both the king under the mountain and the king of the woodland realm attended of course. The wizards were invited, too. Radagast left early, though, to accompany Beorn back through Mirkwood and to their respective homes.

  
Loki attended at Thranduil's side. He had non-verbally agreed to stay with him. But he unintentionally upset him also. For Thranduil saw it all. Loki was always cheerful, on the outside. But he always kept every male in sight, never allowing anyone in his blind area. When someone neared abruptly, he cramped just short of a counter-attack. Loki tried to pretend that nothing had happened, trying to forget it. But it afflicted him. Gravely so.

  
He hardly watched the – considering the circumstances – great celebration, only Loki. But he would take care of him. He would make sure that Loki dealt with it, healed his mind and soul, coped and found peace again. He definitely would.

  
After the feast, the dwarves under Dain moved partly back to their Iron Hills and partly stayed to return Erebor to glory, while ravens called the former folk of the Lonely Mountain back from the Blue Mountains. And the elves returned home, too. With Loki. And Bilbo and Gandalf, but those only for a short time.

  
As Loki settled into his new rooms, just beside the king's and almost exactly as grand, Thranduil led the last guests back through his forest, a little squadron of guards behind them, just in case. The hobbit certainly seemed much relieved.

  
Gandalf was still critical and even if only to keep him from investigating himself, he told the wizard:"I will keep an eye on Loki. I will find out for sure about that 'air of death' and watch over anything he does. Don't you worry about that. He will not be leaving my realm anytime soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an anouncement to make, but am not sure how to word it yet... just expect something by Tuesday.  
> Oh and the 'air of death about Loki' is going to be important. It will be a while before its true importance shines through, though.  
> Same with Gandalf's dislike of him. Beside the point that Gandalf is disgruntled about his replacement in the dwarven company and his fear of the unknown, but powerful stranger.


	13. Interception

Okay. So I had originally planned to put my announcement like this:

'Since I can't be sure everyone reads the notes I am putting it where none would miss it:

That WAS the ordinary happy ending,

further reading will contain kind-of-mpreg(Loki being hermaphodite).

I didn't put that in the tags/warnings, because I didn't want to scare anyine away, so:

If you don't like that sort of thing, leave now while you're still happy (hopefully).

If you don't mind, there are two chapters left to go before the end of this story.

It is the first of a series of at least three, though.'

As it happens, however, my next chapter ran away with me and I had to split it up.

Therefore the first hint at it has jumped somehow into chapter 16.

Now I would move this note along as well, but that would make my next chapter

chapter 13 and I am really sorry, but I'm just a bit too superstitious for that.

So: If you don't like mpreg: beware the ending of 16.

If you don't mind: Hurrah, my restructuring has expanded my expected chapter-count to 18.

In any case: Thank you all for staying this long !!!

 


	14. Destiny with difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are answered as Loki and Thranduil try to get closer together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying ! Buuuut, this was technically supposed to be the onset of my aforementioned chapter, which might have somehow gotten more than twice as long as planned, so I had to go a bit divide et impera on it.

Loki did not sleep well that night. Physically he was entirely healed, but every dream was a nightmare and he cursed all the Norns many a time, since he was unable to cast a spell over himself that would ensure a deep and dreamless sleep. Well, he actually could. But he would not be able to lift it again while asleep and he did not intend to sleep forever, as none but him would be able to negate his magic, either.

  
Standing up and walking in the morning, or at least after giving up on sleeping, since the sun was not up by far, wrecked him with phantom pains after his night; He felt like he should limp. He certainly would have had to. But it was all so long ago. in reality. Well, it didn't feel like that for him. Due to his long rest, time had just jumped from the very day to the present. And without the distractions of Dale around him, he could not just think about anything else.

  
His reflection in the bath water showed him dark circles around his tired eyes. Bloody dreams. He cast an illusion over himself to hide any sign of fatigue and prepared for Thranduil's arrival. The elf most definitely knew what had happened, but he acted as though he didn't and that was perfectly fine with him. He didn't need a mother hen to bestow upon him the world's reserves of pity. And for the other case...best not to think about. But he might test that, once Thranduil came.

  
The Elvenking had also still taken him in, despite their unpleasent parting. If he had called Thor stupid in front of Odin, the king would not have just let him go unpunished. Thranduil had never even mentioned his foul words against the crown prince, as Odin would have said. Instead he had for free given him grand chambers in the royal wing of his home palace.

  
So, when the Elvenking returned and - after a short refreshment and redressing from the road clothes - knocked on his door, Loki already awaited him, all prinked up. His hair was brushed to the point of gleaming with three liitle braids per side, starting at his temples and behind his ears, that united in the back to one thick braid bedded upon the free flowing, slightly wavy hair beneath. For his clothes he had chosen something new as well.

  
Since his original ones had been ripped apart and now held very dark memories, they had been destroyed for him. But as Frigga had since boyhood told him to keep fresh ones with him at all times, aware that boys knew literally a thousand ways of getting them dirty, wet or elsewise out of order, and his invisible pocket held unlimited space, he had beside his little armoury also an entire wardrobe in there. A herb and potion depot was sadly still missing. He might see to that later

  
So he had redressed in a black velvet cassock with silver embroidery in floral shapes, holding emeralds for leaves and pearls for the berries of the white mistletoe. He was a bit infamous for poisoning darts with the hemiparasite, even though he had actually used it on his throwing knives. Big difference, to him. But then again, he was infamous for a lot. The toxic little plant had become a signature, anyway.

  
Of his cassock, technically intended for funerals and services to honour the Norns, he had undone all the ornate buttons after some considerartion, to show off his tight, grass-green silken waistcoat, which accentuated every curve and bulge and perked little knob just perfectly. Instead of actual trousers, he had decided for dark green leggings, ending in soft-leathered black riding boots.

  
That way, when Thranduil entered at his softly spoken invitation, the elf almost toppled over, utterly stunned. He took the whole of two minutes, before finding Loki's face with his eyes. And Loki smirked in amusement over the funny sight and heartfelt delight at the obvious test result.

  
Thranduil did not ignore what had happened because he thought him weak for it as the brutish Aesir would, nor did he consider him even by the tiniest fraction less attractive for having been sullied by an orc. All was just wonderful, then. And Loki was happier for it than even he had thought possible before. 

-  
Thranduil had to admit that Loki knew extremely well how to display his natural beauty. He had felt guilty first, when he noticed his leering, but the wicked stranger appeared to approve, so it was no grave crime. He did wonder, though, where the foreigner had gotten the clothes from. And what else did he have in access to that no-one knew about ?

Secret weaponry smuggled easily between the kingdoms ? Oh, it was the king thinking again. And Thranduil internally reprimanded himself. It was Loki, no enemy. He wouldn't carry around weapons of mass desruction in his kingdom. Had Loki known his thoughts, he might have been relieved that The Elvenking knew nothing of the casket still with him, called by the Aesir Jotunheim's greatest weapon for mass destruction.

  
But he was being rude, Thranduil noticed, standing and staring and pondering like that. So, with a friendly smile, he went over and sat on the chair beside Loki's, offering him wine. Loki declined, still grinning. But the grin froze for a moment, all his body tensing, when he asked:"Loki, might I ask you a serious question ?"

  
A second later, a grin returned, but not the same. It was a false one betrayed by his still evident tension, but admittedly, none of it shone through Loki's perfectly politically polite tone:"What ever may that question be ?" Realising Loki's expectation and his dread, Thranduil actually forgot what he had wanted to ask.

  
Frantically he searched his mind for anything to ask, because if he pulled back now, Loki would think it reconsideration at his reaction. As if Thranduil thought him incapable of handling it. And it would both isolate and enrage the prince, that much the Elvenking knew of him for sure.

  
And there was a question he needed to ask as well, perhaps even the same one he had intended to ask originally:"Have you, being a wizard of sorts, ever tried scrying ?" That Loki had not expected, but while his eyebrows rose in question about the strange topic, his tension fell again and he could indeed answer neutrally.

  
"Certainly, yes. But that was a long time ago and I was never good at it. And not just not as good as Heimdall, I was really awful at it, never seeing anything really without the help of Hlidskjalf."

Now Thranduil had to pause for a bit and his royal pride irked him to comment with as many names that Loki had no way of knowing as he possibly could.

  
The prince, however, saw his slightly confused, slightly disgruntled expression and added:"Heimdall is an Asgardian I have a personal dislike for and it never sat well with me that while I earned the rumoured name of Asgard's greatest mage, although most would unjustly still add a 'behind Odin Allfather himself', Heimdall who is no use at any other branch of magic, is in fact second to none at scrying."

  
He glowered at the wine angrily for a small while, almost amusing Thranduil, then remembered that he had missed something:"Oh, and Hlidskjalf is the magic imbued throne of Asgard that supposedly gifts its king omniscience. In reality, it enhances the scrying capability of anyone to sit upon it so greatly that even a mortal without any usable magic at all could see clearly from it."

  
"Could this Odin see you here as well ?"

"If he purposefully scried on me, yes. But the accident that got me here could not have been guessed by them, so they will assume real what would have happened without it."

Thranduil only needed a pointed look and Loki spat out bitterly:"They will think me dead."

  
And that unpleasently reminded Thranduil of the reason for which he had asked about Loki's scrying. Perhaps they thought Loki to have died correctly. Perhaps he did die, but either pretended that it hadn't happened or really didn't know about it. Perhaps the 'accident' was actually necromancy. It hurt Thranduil to think, but there was only one way to find out for sure:

  
"Loki, please forgive my brusque asking, but have you ever tried scrying on someone who turned out not be alive anymore ?"

"No, why ?"

"Loki, I am so sorry. But if not that, can you be sure that you survived what happened ?"

"What ?! Of course I know that, I am alive ! And I always have been. I would have known if I had died. Even if only for a moment I would have smelt the stench of the afterworld on my skin ! I – oh ?"

  
His tirade stopped and the insultedly angered face morphed within a second to one processing a sudden revelation. And Loki deduced:"When I was asleep for so long, did at some point a wizard examine me ?"

"We were worried, greatly. Yes, I asked one to have a look at you for some explanation."

"And I thought you knew how Gandalf hated me, he would-"

"Do not call me a fool, Loki ! I know of course."

  
For a moment both eyed one another threateningly. That Thranduil would not order Loki again as dismissively as he had before did not mean that the king would submit to the prince. Both were proud and dominant, but had no actually determinate hierarchy. And without, clashes had to be expected. They figured the reason for their problem and considered a solution.

  
Not seeing one which did not force either to submit in order to create an order by rank, Loki chose to pretend that the small dispute had not occured at all and asked, albeit a bit testily:"What other wizard then ?"

"Radagast the Brown. He lives in the south of this very forest and joined the battle with the eagles, but has returned to his prefered isolation from all that is not beast nor plant, by now."

  
"And he said that I have death about me from past contact ?"

"Something like that, yes. Would you call him mistaken ?"

"No, I wouldn't. But you have presumed too much from it."

"How else did you get an air of death then ?"

"Visting the realm of the dead."

"Impossible ! Only the dead are allowed there, none can go with them but by death. Trying to visit will prove fatal to all."

  
"Do you know how ?"

"I never tried."

"Because of Garm."

"Because of what ?"

"The helhound, the guard dog of the single entrance and exit to and from the afterworld. That is why necromancy as you would know it creates only wraiths, only just partially material, that can untouchably pass him, no true bodies, for they would be ripped to shreds if they tried. He keeps the dead in and won't let the living enter without killing them first."

  
"So you could indeed not have visited alive."

"I guess I am one of only two who can."

"How would you get passed that Garm ?"

"With the allowance of the only other. I happen to know the Queen of the Dead. And she let me visit unharmed by her beasts on a few occasions. But I have not seen her in ages."

"You know the 'Queen of the Dead' ? Is she a lover, too ?"

"No ! We are related. But if your question is answered now, we might talk about other things."

  
A touchy topic then. But for a ward by war, family had to be a sore spot. He acquiesced and considered another topic. But now that it was so silent, what could he talk to Loki about ? That reminded him of something he had wondered about since their first day. Not when he heard of the dwarves' stag that they called Loki, but when that 'Loki' turned out not to have resulted from any dwarven influence at all:

  
"What does Loki actually mean ? It sounds dwarven to me, but you have much more in common with my kin than theirs ?"

"That I have asked the two people responsible and gotten two entirely different answers."

"Oh ? Please tell."

"My ...queen said that it is a short form for Loptr, which I have since been called as well sometimes. It means the airy. She said she always knew that I would be a free spirit, bound to cross all the skies."

  
"That is a kind choice."

"If it is the truth. My king said that the diviners insisted on my naming and that it is derived from lúka, which means 'to close'."

"And why would you be someone to close something ?"

"Apparently the infallible diviners foresaw that I would bring about the end. Of the world."

"That is not so kind a choice for a child's name."

"It was certainly not chosen out of kindness. But speaking of it, what means yours ?"

  
"You cannot tell ?"

"How should I ?"

"With your magic, of course."

"But Thranduil means you and nothing else. Directly, at least. If the vocable is changed to form a name, I will not recognise it as a meaningful word. Might it be derived from something else ?"

"Yes, it is. I did not know about that restriction."

"Magic is complicated. Nothing ever is entirely without rules or limits. Tell, though, what is your name made of ?"

  
"Tharan and tuil."

"Vigorous spring ?"

"Indeed. Kinder, but not as telling as yours."

"I disagree."

"You do ? Why, except for being yourself ?"

He had to chuckle. Their previous tension was gone entirely and replaced only by amusement:"Because I like your vigour." And the lewd trailing of his eyes up the length of Thranduil's body left little doubt about the so-called vigour meaning rather virility. "But that you should be spring is even better."

"Your favourite season ?"

"No. But my neighbour. I am Jotunn, a child of frost. As dragon my lungs bore snow storms and iced over all that my breath touched, not fire to burn it. I am winter and you are spring. Imagine one without the other. Spring would not be there without winter. And winter would be only terrible, if not for spring. We are the end and new beginning, destruction and creation. The greatest mechanisms of nature that must never be parted."  
-  
Thranduil's heart beat faster at the explanation. Winter was the closing season as well, so Loki could in fact be even by name designed for him as he might be for the other. Should destiny have made them both with the other in mind ? Time fled by as he sank ever deeper into such thoughts, until suddenly the door opened. He turned, irritated at the audacity. But Loki acted as though he had asked the person in. Perhaps he hadn't heared the assumable knocking.

  
It turned out, he was requested. Big surprise. He was a king with duties and had spent a rather long time with Loki now. The prince told him goodbye with a sweet smile and he begrudgingly left. He could, of course, postpone his duties. But that would be irresponsible. And Loki understood. For once in his life he was understood. His own son took offence, when duties bound him. He always had. But Loki understood.

  
He might still get annoyed at the news: Beside his own realm's need for attention, a messenger had also arrived from Dale, asking for the Elvenking's help. It certainly stroked his ego that Bard acknowledged him as far superiorly experienced and wiser, but he did not want to have to hold Dale's new king's hand on his first days, turning to weeks or even months, not to think of years.

  
It would most evidently give him great power over the kingdom of men and all their resources and manpower, but he – perhaps selfishly – wanted to focus on Loki for the time being. If he denied help, however, it might ruin the relationship between their realms and the men of Dale already were under a great dwarven influence. Politically he could not refuse the resquest, unless he wanted to risk men and dwarves to get closer together, both disliking him.

  
Also he had to admit that he had no objective reason to refuse help. When Smaug took Erebor, none but a dwarf could have blamed him for preserving his people, when they had next to no chance against the dragon anyway. Now he had no excuse. But since it was not expressly requested that he come to Dale for that help, he decided to write back.

  
He let Bard know that although he was rather busy caring for the shape-shifter Loki after the strain of his fight against Smaug and the too soon battle atop Ravenhill and keeping the giant spiders of Dol Guldur at bay, especially after the elven losses in the war and the exile of his captain previously responsible for it as well as his crown prince, by his own choice, he would still answer any question sent to him, but needed more time before he could unobjectionably desert his throne again.

  
Bard had to accept that and could not accuse him of ill-will. He sent the messenger back with his letter and found, looking out, that it was terribly late. It was only after that realisation that it dawned on him just how tired he was. Therefore he went to sleep rather than returning to Loki, but firmly planned on doing so in the morning.

 

-

  
It proved unnecessary. When Thranduil woke, he was not alone. In no more than soft leather trousers, Loki sat on his bed with an amused smile:"Did you know that your confusion gives you the cutest expression, minn vár ?"

"No. How did you get in here ?"

"Do I indeed annoy you so ?"

  
"I am not annoyed. I am worried. A hobbit has entered my home unseen and broken thirteen prisoners out, now you have gotten into the room I sleep in unnoticed, as well. The guards before my door would have announced you, but never let you in while I was still asleep. You passed them elsewise. Is my security so lacking ? May others come and go here also ? Enemies even ?"

  
"Well, the hobbit had a definite advantage as he was. And hobbits are no enemies. I am simply Loki. If any enemy of yours can shape-shift into a fly to bypass your guards and cross your keyhole, then you should really be worried now. So can they ? Even one ?"

"No."

"Good. Then calm again, minn vár. For you are safe."

"What is 'minn vár' even supposed to mean ?"

"My spring."

"Very well, nín rhîw."

And Loki grinned so amusedly, it was quite contagious.

  
"Now that I know how you came, I have to wonder: why ? You should be old enough to have some patience and I was certainly going to visit you again today."

"I am patient, with some things. But I had plans for you, yesterday already."

"What kind of plans ?"

"But I told you. I like your vigour." And before he had comprehended the hint, there was already a tongue pushing at his lips for entrance.

  
A bit shocked at the Jotunn crawling onto his lap he first was going to push him away. Didn't Loki realise that it was too early for him ? But then he thought about what that would look like and he really didn't want the vulnerable creature to feel as though he was repelled because of what had happened. He was still not convinced and considered how to tell Loki that he truly didn't have to do that. They had centuries ahead of them. Millenia even.

  
Then he felt prince's trousers bulging out against his own still blanket-covered crotch. Loki sure wanted it. Maybe it was a form of coping. To replace what had happened with good memories. Well, if it helped Loki, or at least not hurt him, then he would not argue with the initiator. And both were enthusiasctic, getting rid of their clothes and caressing and scratching all the skin available.

  
It took seconds for Loki to grasp the elf's length and Thranduil moaned at his magically slickened strokes, but then gasped sharply as Loki's pleasingly tight grip suddenly jumped to punishingly, restricting him and leaving him whimpering for the reason. So Loki told him in a whispered, but no less menacing warning:"If I have a problem with this, you'll know. While none appears, you should better not treat me like a child."

  
"I don't want to hurt you."

But Loki was only annoyed and pulling for emphasis he bit back:"This does not hurt me."

Still Thranduil was brave:"I don't know what you went through, but I do also carry memories that haunt me. So are you sure that all of you knows or only your conscious mind ? For it is not always the dominating one."

"We will see. But I will not cower from my own mind. So while we are at this, I don't accept half-hearted."

  
But Thranduil did not answer. He couldn't have, but he didn't insist on it, either. Not while the reason for his inability to answer was that Loki was snogging the living daylights out of him. And the prince pushed on as if trying to get ever deeper. The king was most amused, the other's apparent well-being making him even happier and he gladly abandoned the area of 'half-hearted'.

  
Passionately he answered the prince's kisses, letting their tongues dance in their mouths, and allowed his hands to wander from the strong back down to the pert behind that had featured in several of his dreams ever since their first union. Such a shapely part of the prince. But then again, all of Loki was beautiful. And it felt so soft also; the pale skin might as well have belonged to a peach, and still he could feel the steely muscles flexing underneath.

  
And he was glad that Loki appeared alright. He wanted him close. Both for the simple, primitive feeling of closeness to another sentient creature, and to feel the delights that life could give as a reminder that not all was death and suffering. He wanted them to feel just good. Wanted their junction, to become one. His left behind Loki's neck to pull him closer he let his right trace the cleft, just feeling in feathery touches.

  
But his heart almost stopped as he felt the change. Loki at some slight touch between his legs for a trigger went entirely rigid, his arousal dead in the blink of an eye. And Thranduil pulled back as if burnt, begging all the gods to turn back time. But Loki stayed silent. Slowly he sat back on his haunches and paused, all calm but for the raging storm in his eyes.

  
He stood then and walked some steps, still silent. "Loki, I'm so sorry !"

But he cursed himself for the stupid idea as Loki winced at the sudden sound of his voice. "It's okay. It's not your fault." But Loki sounded so horribly detachted.

He stood before him, with his eyes downcast:"No, it is not. I knew that this was a bad idea, but-"

"Right. You knew. I pushed still. Do not blame yourself." And his voice softened for that.

  
But he only wanted to tame Thranduil's uproaring guilt, did he not ? The Elvenking had put him back into the most likely worst moment of his life and still he did not hold it against him. Suddenly there was a feeling of a tender tracing of fingertips over his cheek and Thranduil looked up into the caring eyes of Loki who wiped his guilty tears away:"Do not despair, I just need time."

And in a flash of green the Jotunn prince was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For one, 'nín rhîw' appears to mean 'my winter' and Loki understands him via All-tongue, but I have neither that nor do I speak Sindarin, so don't bite my head off, if I was mistaen to believe the internet on that.  
> Also: are they not destined for one another ? Difficulties on the way are just natural.  
> But now that this is not the beginning of a chapter anymore, I guess it is a somewhat cruel ending. However, it surely is for Thranduil, too: So you can commiserate with him.  
> Relief in the form of 'Scare are the reminders of wounds long healed' by Saturday.


	15. Scars are the reminders of wounds long healed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They really do get back together now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm early again, but to be fair to myself and my horrible self-assessment, it was not going to be done yet. I obly got the time, because I moved a particularly nerve-wracking home assignment to Saturday instead.  
> But anyway: So this is the main body of my chapter stupendous, now cut apart.

He felt guilty still, but had to think about other things. It was barely morning and already he felt as though the day was done; Ruined it was for sure. Anyway, he dressed and left for his duties, for he would not have been able to stomach anything for breakfast. And his servants certainly felt his mood. It was evident in their cautious behaviour and haste to get done with all they had to do in his presence. Then they fled as quickly as possible, lest they angered him.

  
But they misunderstood. He was not angry. He was scared. Because he did not know how gone Loki was. If the prince truly needed the alone-time, he did not want to invade his room. But without, he did not even know whether Loki was still in the Woodland Realm. It was not an easy day, constantly worrying. But the second day without any sign of Loki was worse, in fact only topped by the third. Or so he thought, before the fourth day came.

  
On the fifth a feast was set to celebrate the victory over the orcs and honour the fallen. He was seated at the end of the long table and music was played. All were cheerful, except for him. But all were drinking, him included. Mostly he just put up a happy front. After their prince had left and he had been moody for the last days, his people needed the resassurance.

  
But then suddenly, a quiet swallowed the entire hall like a great hungry wave coming from the door. All motion stopped. All faces turned. All stared. Thranduil almost dropped his cup. Some did, the clanking and splittering of different kinds of cups giving the only sound in the otherwise stunned silence. Because having bypassed all guards unseen, a Jotunn prince in all his exotic beauty entered. Loki was almost impossible to recognise like this, from his crown to his skirt changed.

  
For indeed, a crown was bedded upon and into the unheard-of hairstyle. It showed bedside the main fishtail braid down the back of the neck two smaller, identical braids from the temples to the top, parallel to the main one further down, but rounding back before the neck and curling, now thinner, around the ears to intertwine with the strange earrings that consisted in fact each of a sapphire on the hook from wich sprouted two strings of many little silber drops.

  
Those braided again together with the black braids of hair emphasised both its darkness and the gleaming of it. But despite all its marvel, the eye was first and foremost drawn to the crown. It was fashioned after Thranduil's in its floral nature, but entirely Loki's again. A frosted over wreath of mistletoe with a single ruby red rose blossom in the front, the ice crystals only highlighting its colour's similarity to the Jotunn's ruby eyes.

  
But Loki's head was not all of him that was decorated. Below the silver wire laced choker, he wore four necklaces of different lengths, covering most of his chest which was actually covered only by his necklaces. Three were of white gold and bore pendants of all shapes and sizes, some looking like scales, some like claws, some fangs; skulls and bones on one, too. The shortest, however, was yellow gold and its pendants were ribbons, oat crops, bridles, whips and horseshoes.

  
Strange motives for the prince. But Thranduil was sure that the four great necklaces were more than decoration, that they held meaning. His eyes just wouldn't stay on them. Instead they wandered over Loki's shoulder, where the white fur fringe of a long velvet cloak with train was just visible over his blue skin, before disappearing behind his back. Then they led down the equally blue arms to golden vambraces, inlaid with a dozen sparkling emeralds.

  
He did wonder where Loki got them, because there were even more. The low, but broad golden belt that held the ankle-length skirt of white silk with green embroidery in floral patterns contained various jewels as well, most astonishing among them a fist-sized obsidian on the buckle of the belt. For this glass-like black gem was carved in on the front to hold another, a pyrite in the shape of an apple.

  
Noticing where exactly he was staring, concerning Loki's anatomy beneath the clothes, he abruptly jerked his head away, only to notice that the prince was already right in front of him. But Loki only smiled:"I tried for something more Jotunn to represent my people correctly, your grace, but Asgard still shines through. If I may join you still ?"

"Of course, prince Loki." They were in the public, after all, so he had to formal, even when for the first time in centuries a bright blush coloured his cheeks.

  
For Loki's seat space was freed and a servant brought a new chair, but it was too simple for the prince. So he raised a hand beside the table and before all eyes a throne-like new chair of pure, sparkling ice grew from the ground. Loki than seated himself with an expression of pure smugness at their wonderment. He made his own, icy cup as well, more elaborate in its design and detail thereof than even the king's.

  
But the king did not mind, he filled Loki's cup personally, and raised his own, cheering:"To the dragon-slayer who freed us all of Smaug the terrible, the great mage Prince Loki Laufeyson of Jotunnheim !" No-one knew what Jotunnheim was, but all cheered to him for his heroic deed. It was almost puzzling. Well, really puzzling. He could not remember ever to have been cheered for by an entire feasting hall of people.

  
No matter how often he had pulled Thor and his band of idiots out of trouble, usually with his quick thinking and with his magic, while they had tried for heroic deeds to make halls cheer, in the end it was not appreciated. Truly, back in Asgard his involvement was ignored at best. But more often than not he was mocked for his unmanly magic and despised for his 'honourless' slyness. Here Thranduil called him a mage and they didn't mind, they applauded still.

  
He could have cried. Why did Odin have to take him, when everywhere else was better ? But Thranduil saw his eyes tearing up and knowing his pride, ordered music and for the feast to go on, so they wouldn't notice. Loki knew what he had done instantly and was grateful, silently whispering his "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Very welcome in my halls. I am still very sorry for my thoughtlessness."

"Again: Not your fault. And it is alright now, anyway. I have dealt with it."

  
He seriously doubted that such a matter could be dealt with in a few days, but looking closely he saw that indeed Loki was entirely calm while surrounded. He had been more than jittery the last time in a situation such as this. Now it didn't concern him anymore. "I see your change, but cannot trust it. How ?"

"It is easier to fall back into a resemblance of normalcy the second time."

"The.. What ? Loki, what do mean by that ?"

"Not that, no. But Azog was never the first that did not ask."

  
Now he was utterly shocked. Back in Asgard ? Would that foul people rape a ward in their care ? "Who, tell me ? And where is he now ?"

"Beyond your reach, Thranduil. Svadilfari is long dead."

"You do have strange names, but who was he ? Who could have dared to touch a prince against his consent ?"

"He was not evil. Just simple. I was not as experienced then and could not shift again quickly enough, but he did nothing that was not natural to him."

  
"Whom is such natural to and what do you me- Oh. Shift back again from some beast-shape, you mean."

"Yes, a mare for the great stallion Svadilfari. He had to assume that I wanted him to do as he did. Some female animals run from their partners to make sure that their children will be stronger or faster than them. Improved as evolution wishes. Only a father to win the mother is worthy to give her children. If he loses, she will be won by another to give her young the best potential."

Loki was not technically referring to horses in specific, not quite sure how they did it. He was no stable boy and had by Odin's degree no contact to Sleipnir, since the once so lovely colt's adolescence. Thus - beyond being provided with them to ride somewhere - he had no dealing with horses at all. So he could draw only from his assumptions based on other animals he knew more about.

  
"Svadilfari behaved only as his nature commanded. I could not hold it against him and did not wish for his death. Nature worked, after all. Our son Sleipnir is unparalleled among all the horses. He could have danced around any wargs chasing him or reduced them to pulps with his hooves. I learned many techniques from him, back in the day. Even though he is for all his intelligence still only a horse, incapable of shifting, but not neading to, either."

  
Thranduil pondered that:"I did not know that you were a parent. It will have helped you with the shock ?"

"Yes, greatly so. All horrors are easier to overcome with a heart full of hope. And love. What he did changed me entirely, making me paranoid and so deeply ashamed until I could hardly live anymore, isolated in my room, not letting anyone in, nor sleeping. But my son changed me again. He taught me that good can come of even the worst and in a way, what Azog did reminded me of that."

  
"What could be this good that came from that ?"

"You, Thranduil. Tell me honestly, would you have led your people to Ravenhill and into certain death by orc-reinforcements or would the dwarven king and his brave nephews all be dead now, perhaps even Azog alive after all he has done before ? I think I know the answer, I have heard a lot about the things I missed in my sleep. Would Thorin be begrudingly grateful and friendly to you or would the Woodland Realm and Erebor under Dain be caught in eternal simmering hatred on the brink of war after his death, because you left ?"

  
That he could not argue against. It did not change his wish to undo what had happened to Loki, though. And he still was not convinced that Loki was entirely over it. But his smile was an honest one and thus his could be, too, not a front anymore. The feast was great, after all. But he liked even better, what followed. Loki acquiesced to not repeat their last try, but he wanted and Loki always got what he wanted.

  
So, once back in the royal chambers, he did not even snap their clothes away before whipping the sides of Thranduil's silvery coat apart, dropping to his knees and ripping the front of the king's greyish leggings open with his claws of ice. Thranduil was more than surprised about the proud creature, but Loki just grinned knowingly:"Consider yourself honoured, I would not do this for just anyone." He did, but could not think about that or anything at all any longer.

  
Thinking was just no option anymore, after those cool fingers, positively biting against his hot flesh, had teased him with feather-light touches, then gripped him firmly to guide him and a shockingly hot mouth had closed around him. Shocking mostly, because the lips were still cool as the blue skin, but the inside was on fire, in comparison. The play of temperatures was just not comprehensible.

  
And Loki had skill. He teased mercilessly, but found all the most sensible spots with his tongue, too. When he wanted to. Thranduil was going mad and could not keep himself from gripping the gleaming black hair any longer. He had not wanted to, trying to give Loki absolute control. But he could not tame himself and pulled the teasing head further onto himself while thusting shallowly.

  
His movement was, however, stoppeddead in its tracks when he felt teeth all around. And some of the Jotunn's teeth were definitely pointed. One part of him was grateful for having been stopped when his self-control failed him. One part was scared. Loki wouldn't bite him there, would he ? With basically all his blood concentrated down there in that one organ, a vicious bite could kill him by blood-loss before help arrived. And it would be a miserable death.

  
But looking down, he did not find Loki panicky, nor wrathful. In fact he was - especially for someone with his mouth full of cock - wearing a surprisingly broad grin. His eyes were playful, looking in the vague direction of his hands and he carefully pulled them back, watching Loki shift his lips and teeth in position exactly in time with his own movement. Afterwards the sleeky little minx just winked and dragged a slightly raspy, catlike tongue all along the underside of his still encased manhood.

  
It was a power play in its own way. Loki was on his knees, servicing him, but it was Thranduil who was at his mercy. And he would be kneeling soon, too. Because that mouth, now working for real, just send shivers over his whole body and made him weak at the knees. He truly had trouble keeping himself upright. That wicked tongue ! But it wasn't just that. Loki simply had no gag reflex after centuries of experience and swallowed every time it tried to resurface. That had its effect on the proud king.

  
But Loki still had one advantage more. He had once read something about Jotnar's roars being fuller, deeper and louder than the battle cries of the Aesir, because of sounding pockets in their throats that increased the resonance. It was likely for mating bellowing, although the Aesir considered it aggressive in their tales of heroic battle against monsters. Loki found it elsewise useful. He forewent humming and tried for the deepest and most Jotunn, rumbling growl he could manage.

  
Even the door shook in its hinges, the very ground quivering and Thranduil felt the vibrations tenfold. He came on the spot, shaking along with the floor and stared at Loki through ubelieving eyes that still could not keep their lids above half-open, as the rumble's echo ebbed away. Having swallowed all and licked him clean, Loki leant back, entirely pleased with himself:"I think you are deep in my debt." But the growl was not inconsequential. Thranduil just managed to close his coat around the evidence and pull Loki up, before alarmed guards entered:"My king, are you attacked ?"

  
"No. I am not."

"We heard a noise like a beast's. It went through all the city !"

Loki was impressed. He had not known its reach, but then, Jotunnheim was a wasteland of many snowstorms. It would take some sound to be heared at all through one, not to mention over any distance. Thranduil had difficulties, though, not yet up to thinking again all that clearly after having his mind blown into pieces.

 

But he was old and experienced, and he was king:"I am not. The noise was a demonstartion in terms of cultural exchange. I was curious and asked for it. There is no danger here. Now return to your posts." They did after short bows and just as they had closed the door again, Loki started laughing:"All this serious fighting and talking had me forget the pure joy of creating a little chaos. Just think about all those peolpe's faces, when their roof and ground started shaking ! I have to think up some more things to do soon."

  
"You like chaos ?"

"A little chaos, yes. I've been known as prankster since before I reached puberty."

"Please don't torment my people, though. They are not used to such disquiet."

"Okay. But I would like a target. May I use you instead ?"

"Preferibly not. But, speaking of it, I have subtly been asked to come to Dale to help King Bard with his try to rule. Comming from Laketown, his people must be accustomed to things not going as planned."

"Great ! I shall join you then."

  
"Speaking about joining me, though..."

But looking, he saw no bulge in the light fabric covering Loki's nether regions. And Loki just grinned:"Too late. Did you know that you taste a bit like raspberry ? It's my favourite berry, better than even strawberries."

He really had no idea how to answer that, but Loki's cheery mood was a good thing.

  
-

  
In the morning he woke with little memory of what had happened after he had opened another bottle of wine in his rooms for lack of things to say, but then he noticed the blue back in front of him, that his arms were curled around. Loki was in his bed ? Well, he wasn't complaining. Getting a closer look at the darker blue ridges all over Loki's skin, though, he was curious and traced them with his fingertips.

  
They went down the entire back in curls and twists and then further down still. He pulled the cover away to see more. The ice prince couldn't get cold from that, could he ? So he traced them all the way to his lower back, where they parted to continue down the azure flanks. Except two. Those, formerly almost parallel to Loki's spine but for their sine-wavey nature, ran down to his cleft unparted and curled around his dark blue entrance.

  
It was alluring, even dormant. Thinking back to Bard's words about Loki's dual nature, after he had known only masculinity from Loki's pale form, he wondered whether it was the only entrance. Because the difference between the forms was more than a change of colours. The ridges had not been there before, either. Hesitantly he led a single finger further down, Loki twitching at the touch of sensitive areas.

  
And he was amazed as indeed, instead of a scrotum, the soft outer folds of a vulva hid between the Jotunn's legs. But he could not dwell on it for longer. Because on the first tentative touch of that specific part of his body, Loki shot up with an ice sword and Thranduil jumped back in fright:"Forgive, please. Loki, truly, I did not know you would be so shocked. You were so calm yesterday. I am sorry."

  
Loki was really agitated, but reevalutaing the situation, calmed again quickly:"Yesterday was not that part. It's different."

"It's.. Oh dear, did Azog ? I am so sorry. I had no idea. But, especially after yesterday, is it so great a difference ?"

"Yes."

"Loki, are you sure ?"

"I am telling you: Yes."

"And are you honest with me ? Loki, did you enjoy yesterday or just stayed calm ?"

"I enjoyed it. Hard to hide."

"But you did. Hide. Loki, tell me the truth, have you really come ?"

  
Yet Loki only sighed, looking away. He had not. "But Loki, why did you not tell me ? Why do it still ?"

"Because I don't want to be afraid ! The first time this happened, it nearly destroyed me. I will not allow a repetition. And being fine with it is the middle-step to liking it again. It's the next best way and it's my choice."

"Why next best ? Next to what and why not that ?"

  
"Because you would not be fine with that and I don't want both of us damaged, if it fails."

"How dare you just assume that I would refuse something that could help. I'd do anything !"

"Really ? You would be perfectly okay with letting me tie you down like a beast to gain absolute control about everything you have to offer and use you to my heart's desire, so even my very instincts get that it's no problem for me ?"

  
That had not been what he had expected. And a small, but insistent part of him was absolutely sure that he would not be fine with being bound into utter powerlessness, no choice left to him, nor any mean or way of escape. It didn't sit well with him. But if it helped Loki ?

"I'll do it."

"Sure ? I won't free you, even if you ask for it. And all doors need to be locked against your guards. Else it would be useless. Still ready, knowing that I might freak out and do something icily unpleasent, while no help can come ?"

  
"Yes. I trust you and I want to help."

"Okay. Now ? I might take a few hours."

"Just a moment." He let the guards before his door know to stop all from intruding and keep out themselves, too. Then he locked the door, as well as those to the other rooms that had servant doors. Then he dropped his night shirt – had he really had that much to drink ? Because he didn't remember either of them redressing, perhaps he should truly watch his limit – and lay down on the bed.

  
And a moment later, icy shackles gripped his wrists and ankles and pulled them outwards, until their chains were taut, binding him securely to his bed posts. Spread-eagled, immobile and quickly growing cold was not his favourite position. It scared him, actually. He was truly and utterly powerless. But one look into Loki's wide eyes, sparkling with amazement, made it all worth it again.

  
And Loki definitely seized the chance. Naked already, he closed in and settled beside the pale form of the elven body on the bed, layed out like a feast to be devoured. Loki certainly did not plan on purposefully hurting his lover, but he would use him. Just for that, the unhappy elf needed to stand up, a part of him at least. Loki would just have to entice it to do so. And he was really good at that. But first, he only leaned over to kiss Thranduil.

  
Then he kissed him deeper, mapping the other's mouth with his tongue. And deeper and deeper and he drew back. The addicted mouth of the other tried to follow, craning his neck, but the strain of his shoulders bound by the wrist shackles would not allow him further. He sunk back down with a near pout and Loki grinned amusedly, entirely at ease. He added kisses and little raspy licks over the elf's nipples, upright in imitation of his toy.

  
And after Thranduil had already started softly moaning and trying to raise his chest further, he bit. It was a playful bite, not truly hurting, but Thranduil immediately dropped and his eyes, formerly squezzed shut to concentrate only on the feeling, shot open to find Loki's face. But there was only happiness written upon it. And Thranduil, too, was happy again.

  
However, Loki was not easy, when he was in charge. He took his time, as if he had all the time in the world. A feathery tickling of fingertips just above the root of the weeping cock. A dipping of a tongue into the other's naval, slithering down and pulling away again. A nipping on the inner thigh. So close ! And sharp nail outlining his balls. The elf was writhing, biting his lips almost bloody and only just short of begging.

  
After what felt like hours, that where approximately two for real, he just could not bear it any longer:"Loki, please. Your eyes tell, you're just playing around now. Let it end. I - damn it ! I beg of you: Allow me relief !" Loki just looked back at him entirely innocent. But he had to know what he put him through. Thranduil was long grateful for his shackles. He had not believed it first, but now his bindings had freed him. He could flail in them with no need to watch his actions as on the evening before. They would stop trespasses for him.

  
But seeing his despair, finally looking at Thranduil again above the collar line, Loki considered it and agreeingly complied. He gave the very top of his cock a peck, almost making him come with that little touch, and reseated himself to kneel just above the ramrod straight piece of over-senitive nerves and burning hot blood. The elf was well aware how critical a moment that was. But then Loki sat down on his thighs again and Thranduil could have cursed the very woods.

  
Yet the sight he then got was a great bit of recompense and that Loki had remembered that through the chaos of his nerves was a good thing. Because next, the Jotunn sucked three fingers into his mouths, hollowing his cheeks as if – o, gods. He might come prematurely, after all. But he knew that it was for show. Loki could just magic lube on his fingers, so sucking them to coat them in saliva was purely for Thranduil's entertainment.

  
Still it worked and it worked more so when Loki, still kneeling, laid his chest on the bed, leaving only his sweet behind up in the air before leading his fingers back. Technically, Thranduil was not a voyeur, he prefered participation and his shackles felt it, but Loki fingering himself with one and two and finally three was just too hot. And that impish grin all the while. He knew exactly how he affected his lover.

  
And only after hours of teasing him did Loki take him in. Slowly he lowered himself from again kneeling, both holding their breaths. But his control had done wonders on him and Loki was entirely fine. Thranduil tried not to think about what his female entrance would be like. Skittish most likely. But they had centuries and what they had already was so good in itself. It just didn't work much longer. Hardly a dozen times did Loki rise and lower himself again to Thranduil's shallow, restricted thrusts.

Towards the end he leant down to look his lover more closely in the eye, seeing the feeling in them, and kiss him into climax. Loki preceded him, if only by a moment, the climactic tightening causing him to follow, and that was reason to rejoice: Loki was not just at ease, but honestly enjoyed it. And in his throes of passion bit the king's lips bloody for real, but it could not deter Thranduil's joy, just made him chuckle in heartfelt satisfaction.

 

-

  
The ice molten, they lay together afterwards. Duties could wait, they should enjoy their victory. Thranduil was indeed so blissed out over their success – and a long built up climax – that he hardly heard Loki's mumbled "Thank you."

"Of course. I wanted to help you and quite liked it myself."

"It's just... difficult, when it's all only in the head. It's not real like that and can't be properly fought. A dragon can be slain, an infection treated or cut out as last mean, but that ? No visible wound. No real scar to briefly touch and feel healed."

  
"It is a scar."

"Well, I don't see anything."

"Not all scars are visible. Not every presence is perceptible. Do you see me scarred ?"

"I have once. But now, no. You hide it." That shocked Thranduil a bit. Loki knew ?

"Don't look at me like that. You have more than seen me in my birth-form and my heritage is not exactly a dream topic of mine, either."

"Why not ?"

"As if I could like that I am merely an ugly savage from hostile wastelands."

"Ugly ? Have you ever seen yourself ?"

  
"Jotunns are ugly and bestial. It's common knowledge and I am one of them. Dark and blue with bloody eyes and uneven skin."

"I like your ridges. I might just have their patterns embroided in my clothes or carved into my furniture. It's strangely alluring. And the rest of you is not ugly, either. But that has nothing to do with your species. You are a shape-shifter. Your heritage is irrelevant. Even when I first saw you as a stag, you were beautiful above all the rest of their kind. And that is what you are now, as well."

  
"You're straying from the topic, we were talking about my supposed, invisible scars." Thranduil chuckled then. Loki presented himself like a showman, but was self-conscious about praise ? He really hadn't gotten much of that before. But he was right:"Not supposed. Profound. Loki, scars are not what you see of a former injury. They are the remnants of wounds long healed and reminders of them, keeping us aware and alert for the future. There are scars of the body and scars of the soul."

  
Loki did not argue further, just sank into his thoughts. But Thranduil had to rise at some point. It was not even noon and he had things to do; duties. Begrudgingly and only after a last quick kiss he stood, took a quick bath against the unequivocal smell of musk all over him, before drying off and dressing. A soft mumble sounded from the dozing Jotunn after he had magicly dried the royal hair, but Thranduil did not really catch it, already passing the door.

It had been three syllables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. If anyone thinks the awesomeness of cold to be rubbish, remember that preferences can differ. I for one have experimented a lot and found that I adore to play with ice cubes and hot wax.  
> 2\. Can anyone imagine a sentence of three famous syllables ? But Loki isn't really aware of saying it. He does say it first, though !  
> 3\. 'One grave result of five unlikely chances' ahead, likely to be posted around Tuesday.


	16. Two Kings in Dale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Loki visit Dale to help Bard with his new duty, or Thranduil does at least. Loki just has a bit of fun (and lets Thranduil literally taste a new bit of Jotunn biology.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY !!! I really was going to post 'One grave result of five unlikely chances' next, but it burst at the seams again and I had to make its onset a chapter of its own to keep a moderate length, possible to read without breaks.

Viewing his array of duties the Elvenking found a new messenger from Bard to have arrived and with him brought a very long letter full of problems that the human needed his help for. It also contained an express plea for his presence, this time. He groaned internally. But if Loki accompanied him, maybe it wouldn't be that bad ? After little consideration he told the messenger to run right back and announce him. The man did so happily. Things had to be dire indeed if a peasant realised it.

  
Afterwards he dealt with elven business over a collective lunch with councillors, other key officials and captains – some of which looked at him strangely before diverting their eyes blushing for some reason – before gladly returning to Loki, who was still in his bed, with berry-desert. One red eye narrowly opened in suspicion at the noise of his intrusion, but then the sweet food was spotted in his hands, held out in offer, and Loki sat up at once.

  
Thranduil wanted to argue against eating in bed. He could very well imagine what a single berry might do to his clean white bedding, but he had hardly opened his mouth and already they were all eaten up. Loki savouringly licked his reddened fingers clean, reminding him of that tongue's talents, then asked in that pleased, slightly purring tone that only a coddled prince or house-cat might be capable of:"So ? I am delighted, both about your cunning choice of bribery and imagining the looks of those surely dining with you, but you didn't come just for this, did you now ?"

  
He certainly read the offer in those twinkling eyes, but his ulterior motive in bringing the - indeed - bribe had been another:"No. But I come burdened with an obligatory task of political nature. Diplomatic even. Although, first of, what imagined looks ?"

  
"They did not look at you funny ?"

  
"They did, but it would have been inappropriate to ask them why, so I am hereby asking you."

  
"Your sweet rosy lips, my king, are looking ravaged. There is no way they don't all know exactly what we did after we left the feast."

  
Damn it. He willfully extended the glamour over his scars to make his entire experience prim again and tried to ignore the inconvenience, although rumours were no doubt sprouting like weed already.  
"As I was going to say: King Bard of Dale expects me. You did want to come along ?"

  
"Yessss, of course !"

  
"You are quite happy with all this, are you not ?"

  
"What could possibly have given me away ? But seriously, I can't wait for a target to my long missed hobby. When do we go ?"

  
"As soon as I tell the stable staff to prepare two horses for us."

  
"Rubbish", was all that Loki had to say to that and a blink of an eye later, a great jet-black stag with ivory antlers and emerald eyes lay in the Jotunn's place. A beast on his bed ! But the intelligent eyes winked at him and he couldn't really be mad at his lover. So he led his gorgeous prince outside, accompanied by a minimum of four guards and all mounted, the - by common expectations necessary - escort on ordinary horses.

  
And he was grateful again. Ever since his loyal companion had died in the battle, the simple thought of riding had twisted his stomatch into tight knots. He did not hate horses. But his great stag had been - beside the symbol marking him as king - a dear old friend, with him for decades through its forest-magically prolonged life. They had never been able to talk, but had not needed it either. Trees could not talk, but he loved his Greenwood - for it was Greenwood to him - still and had missed his mount. Yet Loki had ways of distracting his thoughts.

  
It was not as though 'riding' was a lecherous term by definition. But Loki was not a wild animal that still had to be broken in, which made his bucking every now and then and the arching of his back questionable. But it got a bit suggestive whenever he also groaned at that and Thranduil thought about how – considering that the mount knew the destination and would go there without reins – hard it was to ride his lover to both their destination.

 

-

  
Thus the elsewise uneventful trip was not too boring. And neither was it overly long. Without the need for supplies they were light on strong mounts with long legs. Like that they made their way to the city before sunset, the low fog of nearing twilight only just rising to the fetlocks of their horses. In the not yet notably waning light they were spotted early and trumpets sounded both in their greeting and to call the king. His guest had arrived.

  
But he was not the only one who came; the streets were already filled before they reached the arched entrance. All the people wanted to grasp even the tiniest glimpse of the beautiful elves that had helped them before. But that day, the men and women of Dale stared at the Elvenking entering their gate no more than the steed that bore him. Loki would never admit it, but he really liked to be the one with the attention on him, to own the crowd.

  
So he might just have added a few little magical effects to his appearance, letting his ivory antlers shine like the moon as his fur became lustrous, shimmering with green and blue hues and making his body look like a great living statue of obsidian. His golden harness was pure illusion, though. But it still drew the looks.

  
Thranduil noted quickly that something was going on below him and risked a look, only to roll his eyes. Loki was a bit of a drama queen, really. But he did not mind. I did not even irk him one bit that no-one had eyes left for him. It did not ! Anyway, he waited patiently as Loki walked to the central hall at a snail's pace so everyone could get their eyeful of him. Then he dismounted casually and told him to turn back. Loki looked him in the eye once and that was it.

  
With a slightly tense murmur he warned him that animals were kept outside, but Loki just flashed his teeth in an odd grin and with a dramatic little explosion of green smoke he disappeared. Thranduil then had no other option but to pretend that it was all planned. He did not bat an eye and just turned to the hall dismissively. There he found Bard already outside and looking at him bewilderedly:"Your stag just went puff."

"Oh, that was just Loki. And there's no binding him."

  
Bard was relieved and even though they had no idea of what was going on, the crowd was relieved as well. They just trusted their king, who then led Thranduil inside, three guards following as the fourth watched over their horses' treatment. Yet Thranduil had a problem. Thinking about Loki and binding made it extremely difficult to keep a straight face. But he was an old and experienced politician. He manged, good enough for the humans at least. Loki literally rolled on his back laughing.

  
Of course, Thranduil still had not realised that flashs and smoke – always in his favourite colour – were distractions to disguise his shape-shift. He could certainly teleport, but it was extremely dangerous to destruct his body down to the molecules, move them and reconstruct it somewhere else. So he usually 'disappeared' by turning into a fly, flying away and turning back. It was great for spying as a literal fly on the wall and to become both near invisible and untouchable.

  
This time he had not really turned back after putting a distance between Thranduil and himself. He had turned into his favourite mischief-making shape. And it was infamous, too. Even the Midgardians knew a black cat for a portent. Now sitting on his haunches on a nearby wall after having laughed so hard that he had almost rolled down and fallen from it, but just caught himself before it came to that, he set his mind to plot pranks.

 

-

  
Once inside Bard led him directly to his private office where he had gathered all the problems. He even had a wooden carved minature of Dale and the surrounding area. There was so much to rebuild, but they needed various raw materials for that, stone above all. Yet they had no quarry except for hills and mountainsides that the dwarves valued too much to destroy them. And even then, they had no experienced quarry workers nor stone builders as all the houses of Laketown had been wooden.

  
The only ones who knew their way around building with stones were the dwarves, but they expected payment and while Thorin had given them a share of the mountain's treasure, Bard feared giving as much away as the builders and their material would cost him. He needed the money for the import of goods they were not yet capable of producing themselves. Food the most important among them, but in truth they were short of almost everything.

  
The dragon fire had taken so much, everyday things that were not even very valuable. But when Smaug came, no-one thought to take pottery or simple tools with them. Most ships and boats had burned and sunken as well, not having been able to leave quickly enough in the chaotic bustle of the narrow waterways suddenly swarmed by far to many trying to escape. Yet those had had the fishers' nets still on them. For where else would they be, really ? And who took a fishing net when fleeing from a fire-breathing dragon ?

  
But thus, their population of mostly fishermen had basically no nets left for their work. So what could anyone do with a majority of fishermen incapable of fishing and with no other training. What could any of them do without everything, a folk starting from scratch ? They had made do improvising so far. Trying for themselves what they had no experts for, but it was starting to show. And that scared Bard. All by substitutes would just not work for much longer.

  
Thranduil understood his worry very well, but he only just kept from groaning, still. Did he have to do everything ? Suddenly a scream sounded from outside and Bard jumped up at once, then ran out to look and take care of it. Ruling really wouldn't work, if the king was so easily distracted and so rude to his guests. But Thranduil followed him out; what else could he do on his own in Bard's office ?

  
Yet outside, he saw nothing worthy of screaming. Bard, in contrast, was desperate to keep in control, so he approached him – just a little worried – and nearing saw the matter at hand. In the centre of the yard was a fountain and many got their drinking water there. But now, apparently as one woman dunked a bucket in for the filling, the entire fountain water had turned into a huge, slithering mass of lime-green rattlesnakes.

  
Whenever someone neared they all rattled as one and snapped at the daring hands. Left alone they just wound around each other. It was disturbing, but green. Just Bard – and all the other humans – didn't realise what that meant. Indeed the king said in an all serious tone that no-one could approach the fountain and armed guards were to investigate the others and warn all the people of this one as well as any other they found to be infected.

  
Thranduil had for them only disbelief:"You're not taking this as an actual threat, are you ?"

  
"Of course I am. Our water supply is infested with poisonous snakes !"

  
"I guess the joke's on you then. There is no danger here, my perturbable friend."

  
"Really ? Then drink. I asked for your help, not your condescension over my people's crisis."

  
"You truly are too tense." And he reached into the mass of green snakes, not caring about their angry rattling, and gripped one. He pulled it out of the mass and held it out to Bard. The snake bit him, but he felt no pain at all. The snake itself felt only cool and slippery, condensed water after all. But then it looked him in the eye and just for a moment he had a really bad feeling.

  
He was right to, for in the blink of an eye, the snake was a squirrel and that vicious little beast leapt across his body nipping and pinching and tickeling him all over, and in front of everyone ! Erraticly he tried to throw it off, but it was quick and agile, evading any blow that then hit only himself. It was maddening and now Bard was starting to grin like a maniac at his futile flailing. That was so embarrassing.

  
But finally, he hit the would-be weasel and flung it off. It looked back at him angrily, but then turned into a goose and with an arrogant snort and a head held high waddled off, quite demonstratively wiggling its broad bottom at him. He stared after it somewhat stunned, until its increasing transparency made the magical form invisible. What Loki's mind came up with ? Strange things. But the clearing of a human throat drew his attention again and Bard was not containing his amusement, but he actually looked somewhere behind Thranduil.

  
Turning he looked back into the fountain and found all the snakes staring at him and him alone. He had such a bad feeling. Perhaps he shouldn't have belittled the prank, or just not acted all cool with it, when the trickster had told him that he desired a little chaos. Well, he certainly learned his lesson, when all the snakes turnd to sparrows and the entire swarm went right through him.

  
He just managed to hold back a terribly girly shriek as he was swallowed by they mass, all colliding with him bursting like waterbombs and all so many more getting caught in his hair, whirling it around and snarling it into knots and nests, until even the last had made its way to a tree behind him, from where they ranted and raved at him in shrill chirping. By that point, he was dripping wet and his hair looked like coppice, while Bard openly, roaringly laughed.

  
"You know, I'm not quite sure what just happened, though it probably is not dangerous as you said. But honestly I believe the 'joke' is on you."

  
"Actually, I would not be so sure of that." And he looked into the tree full of water birds with a pout:"You owe me." For a moment, nothing happened. Then all the birds turned to look directly at the still laughing Bard who instantly stopped that:"Oh no." But yes. Thranduil could smile again. Because now, Bard was swarmed and hitting at the birds did not save him from the cold shower and tousling hair brush, courtesy of Loki.

  
"Fine. But now we are both wet and it's freezing here." Yet it was only a prank and not a moment after Bard had voiced his displeasure the goose returned. It stood before them, looking goofy, then trumpeted out a blow of hot air, drying them magically. They certainly looked no less dishevelled, but were dry and once the goose had jumped back into the empty fountain, landing with a splash as it became water again, everything was back to normal.

  
Everything not meaning that guards and peasants all around were desperately trying not to laugh. They couldn't laugh at the two kings. It would be terribly disrespectful, but it was so hard. Trying to keep himself from laughing with them – as he was more simple man than king still – Bard told his guards:"I think you can ignore my earlier order. The fountain snakes are not ...really dangerous" And with that he turned to go back in.

  
But Thranduil did not follow, so he searched the elf's eyes and found him intensly observing a cat. A black cat licking its fur dry by the tree the birds had been in. There was nothing special about that cat; what might the Elvenking see in it ? After a few minutes, in which Thranduil had continuously observed it with his eyes narrowed in suspicion and the cat only continued to diligently clean its coat, he cleared his throat again.

  
Only then did Thranduil leave the cat, its jet black fur still irking him, but he had not seen its eyes. For only after he had turned away did the tomcat rise his head and those emerald eyes to look at the always prim king's shaggy appearance and grin wider than any cat could. Teaching Thrandy that no-one was safe, once the God of Mischief was off the leash ? Managed !

  
-

  
In the following days, Thranduil had various discussions with Bard about the priorities of their would-be city. Dale had grown from trade, so the most important means for them to allow any kind of income were ships – or at least barges – and carts – preferibly with horses to pull them. For that, wood was more important than stone. They should only make as many houses as needed hospitable while they still had no earnings, anyway.

  
Also they would not be able to live off fish and trade goods alone in a city as large as Dale. Not for long at least. Therefore they had to put greater efforts into refertilising the desolation around them, so they could grow wheat or something like it as a basic food supply for the – surely soon also growing – population. For now they should focus on getting trade – and of course fishing – vehicles.

  
So they needed to buy axes from the dwarves and go woodchopping in the outer edges of Mirkwood. South of the Woodland Realm, if they did not want to dearly regret it. There the trees were too poisoned for the forest to suffer at their loss, yet still usable for ships and carts. And they should know how to build those. Once they had some, they could start what they knew best.

  
The principle clear, the details were worked on. Appropriate man power had to be selected and assigned to the different tasks, for one of which the best houses to complete had to be chosen in order to settle all weatherproof and warm with as little of their limited budget spent as possible. For that they had to inspect the ruined city closely. And that revealed some goings-on of a stranger kind.

  
One time, they came by a road that wasn't there. They saw it. Saw people walking there, though most just stood in front of it. A throng had gathered at the crossroads from which it led as the people of Dale wondered about the non-existent street they all saw. Carefully one tried to enter the way, but found a hard barrier in front of them. So they all gathered, looking like fools and fingering a wall enchanted to portray a street.

  
A crowd of idiots continued staring at the illusion dumbfounded about not being able to go through a wall all day, until a downpour chased the black cat cackling about their puzzlement from its viewing position and the image flickered away. Loki's displeasure about his wet fur was of course felt around town, after he had conjured waist-high stinging nettles all over Dale. By the end of the day, everyone was scratching angry rashs that itched non-stop.

  
The next day, after having slept under the stars due to Thranduil glaring him out of his room, also scratching, he was in an equally sour mood. But he wanted to sleep inside for the next night, so he just turned all the human male population's trousers into skirts. The women laughed almost the entire day and Thranduil was just really glad to have been spared. Though he had to admit, Bard was putting up a brave front during their planning, he and all his guards in knee-length red and orange skirts.

  
Thranduil actually caught himself looking down the strong, but hairy legs once or twice. Or thrice. But not just because they were of a handsomely, manly form. Mostly in fact, because they were so much less desirable than his. They could have been dwarf legs for how hairy they were. Or dog legs. Animal surely. Maybe Bard should shave them. He should shave his beard, too. That could not feel good. Even if the hair framing the human's face with his deep, intense eyes looked soft and warm, kissing him had to be scratchy.

  
He was of course thinking about Loki with that. Because – while he acknowledged that it as ultimately his fault – he could not wrap his head around what his lover had ever seen in the man to sleep with him. Had he truly chosen the most gross possibility to insult him ? Well, that would have been the Master of Laketown. Thranduil shuddered, nearly retching. So far even Loki would not have gone to hurt him. He hoped it at least.

  
That disgusted expression after looking him up and down for so long really hurt the former bargeman. But maybe it was not meant like that:"My lord Thranduil, you seem displeased. What is wrong ?"

  
"Nothing of Dale. I was just ...considering Loki's possible gamut of choices in bed partners." He had actually meant that he had a little disturbedly wondered how far Loki would go and had perhaps gone before him. But Bard was more than snubbed by his interpretation. He cringed visibly and Thranduil realised what he must have sounded like. He wanted to explain – while keeping his face of course – but the mortal felt himself losing control of his already.

  
"Ah, well he found back to you now. Must be missing you already, since I occupy you so. I mean, it's – wow, it's really dark already. Maybe we should stop for today and continue tomorrow. Perhaps even with trousers then. And get some sleep beforehand. Goodnight." And with that Bard disappeared, his guards following just a bit puzzled.

  
Thranduil felt like slapping himself. He had really messed up that one. But it was not like he dealt with half-naked, formerly carnal partners of his beloved often. Anyway, he should get Bard back at ease with them somehow or every little bit of future diplomacy would be pure torture. Maybe he should consult Loki about that; he would have some experience with arranging his exes. Fully intent on discussing this important matter he went into their room.

  
-

  
That discussion had to wait, though. Because Loki expected him entirely naked and already sweaty from holding back his raging erection, sprawled in the candle-light that danced across his glistening skin as he rhythmically moved one hand between his wide-spread legs:"Finally, my vigour, I've been waiting for you for ages."

  
"I would rather say that you started without me."

  
"Just preparing myself for you. So we don't have to wait as long. Unless you had other plans more urgent than this ?"

  
He had. Or he had had plans. Now the uncomfortable tightness just below his belt was the most 'urgent'. Ironically enough, wearing a skirt instead of trousers like all others that day might have helped him in that moment. But a snap of Loki's fingers resolved the problem as the foreign prince stood and pranced over to him. Yet when he made to direct them towards the bed, Loki dodged him, his green eyes twinkling in delight.

  
"Beds are so boring. Don't you agree ?" And that grin was contagious, so he acqiuesced and Loki gasped, when he was pushed against the next wall. The prince chuckled giddily as he wrapped his legs around the elf's waist, lifting himself up to overtower him, while still clinging to him:"Oh my budding blossom, melt my frost, vigorous spring, and make me yours for all to see."

  
Magically slicked he could glide right in as he peppered the throat bared before him with kisses. But Loki was feeling feral, for unbeknowst to him the aftershocks of his recent heat still raged in him and he craved to mark and be marked. Kisses just were not enough for his Frost Giant instincts and Thranduil's poor back felt his extending Jotunn claws harshly as he ground them into the pale expanse of soft skin until he drew blood.

  
Thranduil hissed, but Loki didn't notice, entirely lost in the sensations from below. To get his attention again, but not wanting to stop his thrusts, Thranduil leaned up to kiss that sensitive junction of neck and shoulder and bit down on it. But Loki wasn't impressed. He didn't even notice, after – beginning at his claws – his body had set to turn blue. The bite of the elf had not even indented the Frost Giant's ridged skin, so thick was it.

  
Looking up he saw beneath the dreamy red eyes in the gapingly open mouth little fangs, too. Jotnar really weren't the most docile of races and he didn't want to be bitten by that mouth, but Loki was almost delirious. Part of him wanted to prance in pride that he had blown the wily prince's brain as that mortal Bard surely never could have managed. Yes, he was proud, he knew that, but he had earned it.

  
Anyway, those fangs deserved respect as well, he did not have to experience that and they already mouthed at his throat, so he tried again to get through to Loki: He wasn't a beast, but he put all his jaw's power into another bite in the same place and indeed the tough skin broke a bit, but Loki only moaned. Thranduil could not believe it, but something else drew his attention. From the slight wound in Loki's skin welled blood almost as black as an orc's.

  
Aghast he jerked back, but that had the little amount of dark blood pooled in his mouth already slosh back and he swallowed on instinct. Realising that, he was shocked at what he had done, but only for a moment. Then the blood of a Jotunn in sexual bliss made its true nature known and the - in that - inexperienced elf was high from it. For right now, Loki's dark purple blood was an almost explosive cocktail to the brim full of endorphins. And it was intoxicating.

  
Thranduil's head was swimming within moments and even the burning sting of Jotunn fangs rupturing densely nerve-laden skin and cartilage was dulled to hardly noticable. He eagerly lapped at the quickly closing bitemark he had left, trying to get more of this most potent liquor. And Loki rejoiced down to the basest parts of his brain: the imminent seperation had been avoided and now his different lover pleased his Jotunn drives, appreciated them even. All that followed was a bit foggy then, but blissfully so in their dreamlike state.

  
And an unknown stretch of by-flying time later, they both came as one before collapsing utterly spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just imagine my last end note here. Although I might need until Wednesday, if this rascal is to keep following only its own will.


	17. One grave result of five unlikely chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thranduil get Bard back at ease with them and travel with him to Erebor to discuss some things with the dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: You won't like the ending, but it gets better. Only after it gets worse, though. Sorry.  
> Oh, and a bit of Jotunn biology. And, if that was not evident, the last shipping tag applies now.

"Thinking again?"

  
"As if you stayed all sane and civilised throughout."

  
"Well, you started it. Because I had intended to have an important discussion with you."

  
"When ?"

  
"Until the very moment I opened the door."

  
"So easily swayed ? That's so cute. But worry not, that is simply the natural weakness of the 'stronger sex'."

  
"Physically stronger. But anyway, we need to talk."

  
"That would be much easier, if you said what about."

  
"Bard."

  
"Yeahhh. A human, brown-haired, brown-eyed, widowed, father of three children, king of Dale-"

  
"Not general information. But we need to somehow convince him that I am fine with your past dalliance with him. His insecurity will spoil our realms' relations, if we don't."

  
"Are you really ?"

  
"Sure of it ? Yes, it's obvious."

  
"I mean are you fine with it ?"

  
"... ... ...It's not his fault and you will have slept with many before me. I don't need to think too closely about that."

  
"Do you call me a slut ?!"

  
"Of course not, I didn't mean it li- ...You just tested me, right ?"

  
"Yes. I don't mind the word, since I actually lost count some centuries ago. Oh, don't look at me like that. You are special."

  
But Thranduil's slightly hurt expression of disbelief spoke volumes. Loki did not lose his smile, however, instead it gained sincerity:"I don't usually stay with my toys of enjoyment. I do them and find another, so it doesn't get boring, but I would never move into their homes or risk losing my friends for them. They are just toys. You are no toy to me, you are my spring, my completion."

  
"Your sweet-talk proves you a great politician."

  
"Do you really believe that I would elsewise let you mark me ?" With a smile Loki caressed the almost healed wound on his shoulder then and Thranduil answered with a smile of his own:"No. You would never allow a tool for your pleasure to claim ownership over you." Wondering about his own, he felt for his achy ear and finding the mark, pulled back with a hiss:"Did you pierce my ear ?"

  
And the playful grin answered him:"No idea what you're talking about. But please, leave the glamour as it is. I don't want you to deny my claim." With a deep-drawn sigh he accepted:"Fine, my council knows anyway and they can call themselves noble, but they still gossip like the kitchen wenches. So, by the time we get home, all the kingdom will know what we are to each other."

  
"Do you mind so ?"

  
"Well, I doubt that it will better their opinions of me."

  
"Maybe not. Maybe it will."

  
"And how would that happen ?"

  
"I am only a foreign prince of great power to their knowledge. They might think you luring an asset for the protection of your people, politically recruiting a dragon-slayer with your very flesh in unequalled self-sacrifice."

  
At that, Thranduil outright laughed:"Sacrifice ? Loki, even your clever tongue could not convince them of such. Do not forget that they saw you, a bit tarted up and absolutely gorgeous. But maybe, the recruitment of an asset is a tolerable interpretation. I just would not want them to think me a fornicator."

  
"Not that also on top of your drinking ?"

  
"What drinking ? A few glasses of wine never hurt anyone and it is just appropriate behaviour for celebrations."

  
"A few glasses, yes. But Thranduil, you never drink only a few glasses. You should really watch your limit. Not that I haven't told you so before."

  
"When did you tell me such ?"

  
"The night I took you down my throat. Ring a bell ? You opened another bottle and I asked you to leave it, seeing as you were quite drunk already. And while you are a very graceful creature when sober, your staggering replacement when drunk is not so attractive. I went to bed then and I think you followed, but I was rather tired and fell asleep early, while you were having another glass. Do you not remember ?"

He actually didn't. Maybe he really should keep an eye on that. But if he did, then not because he was warned by someone half his age:"As if you never kick over the traces."

  
"I have often, that is why I know how important it is to keep yourself in check and especially the desires for corruptive delights, the addictive vices. For me that would be phases in which I just couldn't keep to myself. I was more than a slut then, outright nymphomaniac really. About every half century since I first ent- ...ered puberty."

  
Of course ! He cursed Odin to the nastiest pits of Helheim. Phaseal homosexual nymphomania was sick for the Aesir, or considered so at least. But for a Jotunn that was just heat. Entirely natural. Another thing that horrid lie had wronged him about, making him think himself sick and twisted for, when it was entirely healthy for him. But returning from the realms of his mind he noticed Thranduil looking at him funny. Now he had to explain his behaviour somehow.

  
"The Aesir knew next to nothing about my kind beside how to best kill it, so I had to find out for myself why I would go through phases in which I craved a man's touch. I have heats like an animal."

  
"I am sorry that you were mistreated so, but I see nothing bad in heats: You are dually sexed, it is best you are somtimes more female and sometimes more male, so an intra-racial couple will never argue about positions and neither will both fall pregnant and give birth at the same time, if they made their offspring while one was in heat, the other lured by that. That avoids unnecessary dispute and grants every child as sole owner of all the paternal attention the best chances in a harsh environment."

  
"Well, that's true, I guess."

  
"If you have them regularly, when was your last ? And know that I am asking you without any ulterior motive."

  
Loki snorted, but considered it:"I will...well. I actually think that I am on heat. No, I'm exhausted now, I can't be anymore. I guess, then it's just past. Sorry, but I suppose you have a fifty year wait ahead."

  
"A pity ! Just, how does your exhaustion tell you so ?"

  
"When on heat, I am insatiable. The first time we joined, I did come, but if not for the interruption and the following turn of mood, that recuperative little pause I gave would have been only that. As it was, it was mostly my anger slaking my lust after our initial climax. But I would have wanted to go again. Several times, if your body had let you."

  
"So... if still on heat now, you would just 'go again' ?"

  
"No. If I was on heat I would have been just sated by this, now I'm exhausted."

  
"How is this time different from then except for your heat ?"

  
"Thranduil, have you not noticed ? You bit me and tasted my blood !"

  
"And that, as both disturbing and exhilirating as it was, changed what exactly ?"

  
"Oh, my blind sweetheart, do you not see what time has passed outside of our trance by the lighting change ?"

  
"Not really, it is twilight still, no darker than before."

  
"Exactly. It is no darker than before we left this material world."

  
"What is your point then ?"

  
"It is lighter, Thranduil. Twilight, yes, but not still the same. That is no dusk out there, it is dawn."

  
Shocked he looked straight out of the window, the lighting of the room not enough anymore for him to gauge, and truly, the moon had moved away and it was the first light of the new day just crawling over the horizon. Had an entire night passed during their couling ? Well, thinking back, dusk had been past, when Bard announced that they should continue the next day and now dawn was only just arising. But that had been extremely long, still !

  
Loki saw his perplexed expression and laughed heartily:"Welcome to the wonders of Jotunn biology. It's not too advantageous to stay out of it for hours, when you get attacked in that time, of course. But we are fine here. Did you like what my lifeblood still carrying my heat hormones could do to your stamina ?"

  
"It's a bit scary and I would have prefered to be aware of it, but from what I feel like now: Yes, most certainly yes. How long will you remain so ...intoxicating ?"

  
"Not much longer, I'm afraid. A week perhaps ? I don't know, when exactly my heat ended, though I guess my physical devastation by Smaug or in the great battle must have changed my body's priorities prematurely."

  
"Prematurely ? How long does it normally last ?"

  
"A season, roughly. Mine usually starts mid-winter and ends a couple weeks into spring, though my recently more frequent shifts into my Jotunn form might have triggered it to come a little early."

"You were on heat for a while before we met then, I suppose."

  
"Actually not. It just about started for real around you. Honestly, if I had been on heat even a week before we met, it would be over by now also."

  
"How come ?"

  
"Because I would be pregnant then and that is beside near death the quickest way to end a heat."

  
"... You have lain with another in a way that could have impregnated you not a week before me ?"

  
"I was libidinous and he was a great big beast, literally speaking. So yes, I did, but it was a one-time-only kind of encounter. A toy, my staying lover. No threat to you. Anyway, you wanted to discuss Bard's fear of your possible jealousy, not its actual existence."

  
"Yes, I – originally – did. Do you know how to calm him about that ?"

  
"Of course. Invite him so sleep with us."

  
-

  
He needed some time to process that; even after Loki had long fallen asleep, deeming the sun not up far enough for further mischief and no other duty urgent to him. Thranduil could not have let himself fall asleep again, if he had wanted to. That 'idea' Loki had voiced so easily on the spur of the moment would not leave him alone to rest some more in peace.

  
Of course he knew what a threesome was. But to have one ? With Bard ? Loki had not appeared to really want one, so he wasn't overly worried about his lover's interest in another, instead he had rather been unperturbed about it, as if it was just logical. Maybe it was. He had to think about it. The last time Loki had voiced a practise for their bed, he had been critical too, but in the end enjoyed it greatly. Might this turn out in the same way ?

  
When the time came that even the humans might have woken up, he rose as well. When the kings met, neither was really focused on all those things that left their mouths. One was itchy all over in unease at talking to the ancient and powerful Elvenking who had basically been cheated on with him – and right now had a very distracting ear that looked a bit gnawed on, by Loki ? The other was still deep in pondering at talking to the very man his lover wanted them both to 'sleep with'.

  
-

  
..."...and for that we would have to go to Erebor and negotiate with King Thorin. I think to remember that he still has your share or something that you wanted ? It was all a bit chaotic after the orcs attacked. My lord Thranduil ?"

  
"Yes, he does. I had focused more on those living than the inanimate then. But we definitely should. Not today though. Prepare everything from your side and around nightfall do please come to my room, Loki has suggested an assurance for you to know that I do not begrudge you your little 'escapade'."

  
No more was said about that as the Elvenking just continued with their original topic and when they got as far as they could without the dwarves, he left without another word. What could Bard possily make of that ?

-

  
Loki had greatly enjoyed his day. The poor guards trying to get out on patrol and the elves checking on their own had just made the best faces, when they found the stables full of bunnies instead of horses. When around midday he – accepting that the horses were needed as such and turning them back – decided that all the wheels in Dale were just too round and made them triangular. And some rectangular, when the mood struck him. Oh, those hilarious peasants just had the best reactions.

  
When the silent alert on his room went off, however, he dropped everything and got back in no time to find a surprised Thranduil. But surprise did not equal a lack of want and before any word came out of them, both mouths were busied with each other. Loki was out of his clothes already, having been a cat for most of the day and not deemed necessary to spell them back on for his lover, yet Thranduil was tightly wrapped up. That had to change.

  
But even before he got his elf rid of that stupid shirt he always wore under his silver mantle, a knocking sounded. Really, now ? He was already about to redress them, when his jaw dropped instead. Thranduil had risen as he was and gone over to the door. The king who could not let his subjects see his kiss swollen lips would greet a – likely – human with his collar wide open, hair dishevelled from Loki's hands raking through and pulling at it and his gasping mouth red from snogging ?

  
That must have been exactly what Bard also thought, if the shock in his face was anything to go by. That and his stuttering:"M-my Lord Thrand-duil, I thought that that you said I should c-come ? I'm sorry, I'll-"

  
"No, I did. Please come in."

  
Uncertainly Bard did and Loki almost laughed. That sprite ! He had invited the no doubt still clueless man into their bed without even mentioning that he was okay with the idea, for he sure had not looked thrilled, when Loki had suggested it. But Bard's ignorance had to be remedied. Knowing the human's preference he changed to female and had two sets of wide eyes on him.

  
Bard's widened, because he realised what would happen, and Thranduil's did so, since he had never before seen Loki as woman. As invitation, Loki then moved on the long since magically widened bed to let them see her on her fours with one side to them. And they stared their fill, stroking Loki's ego a bit more, before finally Thranduil moved, Bard still shy. He dropped his useless garment on the way and pulled those wider-than-normal hips to him, feeling up the rounder-than-normal behind, as curlier-than normal hair fell over the pale back.

  
Loki was strange like this, but no less alluring and he gently brushed her hair from her neck with one hand to kiss the sensitive area as his other swifly opened the panting creature up, lubed with magic as per usual, while as was not usual, there was Bard, still standing idle, even though he was already denting his trousers. Loki licked his lips grinning:"Dear Bard, do come over here. You are invited, so don't you just stand there. Watching doesn't feel as good as touching would."

  
But he didn't, his eyes jumping between Loki's and Thranduil's. Prided at the respect he inspired, the Elvenking acknowledged that he was needed:"It is alright, Bard. I told you, I do not hold what hapened against you. This shall prove it. Come over, my lover enjoys you and I do not argue against it, do not mind it. I only wish to see my sweetheart pleased by anything that Loki desires. That is what pleases me. Come."

  
He could not quite believe it. One day he is repulsive, the next allowed in their bed ? Maybe Loki put the Elvenking in his place in their relationship ? His wife had always gotten her way in the end, too. But Thranduil truly did not seem angry, nor grumpy or even reluctant. He really didn't mind. Well, he might – actually, he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Loki was divine and his people could only profit from better relations to the Woodland Realm.

  
Loki was in Valhalla. Her ex-lover had finally disrobed and the battle-hardened bronze body stood before her, ready to let her feed on his virility, while her beloved – erm, her lover – gently made his way inside, soft hands stroking her sides in simple affection as kisses littered her spine. It felt almost romantic, almost like more. Bard was still a little hesitant, but as Thranduil had finally found that Loki did have not too bad a taste, now that he could see what he was talking about, the elf would have none of it.

  
All it took was a little shove that brought a yelp from the current female as Loki, formerly craning her neck to mouth at the reddish bulb in front of her, was made to swallow it halfway. The human gasped at the sudden envelopment into the wet warmth of the princess and Loki narrowed her eyes, silently cursing that she couldn't direct her evil eye at the elf. But then, she got what she wanted. She might still teach Thranduil not to jolt her around like a doll, unless she asked for it. But first she enjoyed his move.

  
Now that Bard's internal dam had been broken, he finally started to use his opportunity and start thrusting exactly opposite to Thranduil, so they could move Loki between them in constant exchange. Loki herself didn't have to do anything, her lover and toy-lover both focused on pleasing her. Maybe it was a Jotunn thing – which it actually was, of yet unbeknowst to her – or just the kinkiness of the trickster, but all eyes – and other parts – on her was just the way a queen should live in her perfect world.

  
-

  
Bard had really not imagined his diplomatic talk with Thranduil and Loki to turn into a spit roast of the young-looking wizard between them, but he wouldn't complain. The Elvenkings non-verbal warning over Loki's head not to fist the silken locks unless he wanted to be bitten was only another proof. He really hadn't screwed up irreparably screwing the other's lover. It felt good inside to know and even better outside, even while he tried not to look at the other male. That would be awkward.

  
And just at that thought that he did look up and of course right into the other's eyes. Damn it. But Thranduil smiled pleasantly and in the end, elves were somewhat androgynous. Maybe that somehow showed on his face. Because the next moment, soft lips found his and he knew where Loki's were. He almost jerked back, but really, the Elvenking had so sweet-tasting and gentle lips, long white hair cascading around pointed ears and down pale shoulders. Slowly drawing back just a bit, but still so close, the elf licked his lips:"Not too bothersome, just a little ticklish."

  
He wasn't exactly sure what Thranduil was talking about; then a feral growl ripped them apart in a fright. But only for a split second, as the growl's vibrations around his cock let him see stars. Thranduil just laughed lightly. Loki was also jealous then. But sadly, the warning sound's effect was too much on the human and he came down Loki's throat. Panting he stumbled back, and Thranduil took his chance. One arm under Loki's chest he drew the princess up againt his own.

  
Bard sure appreciated the sight, the sinuous woman's entire front bared to him. But his eyes were drawn away as, head on the elf's shoulder, Loki turned his face to the other and they kissed, deeply. One thin pearly rivulet from the joint of their mouths let Bard guess what happened in there and he almost became hard again from the thought alone. He certainly twiched repeatedly as he watched them conclude their coupling.

  
When, dressed again, he left afterwards, he could only think that they were truly a wonderful couple. And that Thranduil had found someone again who fit him so perfectly after he had lost the wife that had given him the prince Legolas, was a source of hope for him as well.

  
-

  
The next morning, Bard with a few guards for appearance's sake and Thranduil – on Loki – with his own set off for Erebor. Having been seen almost upon leaving Dale's gate, the company awaited them in the opened – already repaired – gate of the mountain. The first rushed towards the well-known stag in greeting and were not halted by the elven guards, after Thranduil had called those off. He did not over-appreciate the dwarves running around his legs, but Loki rejoiced at the hearty welcome, moving his antlers out of the way to alllow their petting.

  
Thorin, being king, focused on his like in status. He greeted them formally, neutrally. Inside, politics had to wait. The dwarves of Erebor threw a spontaneous feast in celebration of Smaug's defeat, the 'deliverance of Erebor'. And after a feast in dwarven fashion, everyone had to retreat to sleep off the effects of their over-dimensional tankards. Thranduil found himself under close watch and not too fond of the bitter taste, stayed relatively sober.

  
On the morrow they were led to a council chamber, though Loki only disappeared, when they entered. He thought it strange at first. Then Bard came and looked at him oddly. But that was not the strangest. Upon stepping over the threshold, a little puff of green dust rained down on the human's head and immediatly it pink ribbons sprouted from it and tied the brown hair into pigtails they then donned as little bows. He almost laughed, then he realised why Bard looked at him so and his hands shot up.

  
Indeed, his hair had tied itself also. But he was to meet the dwarves, so he pulled both bows out, yet Bard grinned.

  
"What is it now ?"

  
"Three on each side, Lord Thranduil. Loki at work again ?"

  
And he sighed. There was no helping, so he just acted like he didn't mind. Bard sat beside him, amused despite his own predicament. And then Thranduil grinned also. The dwarves were coming. Oh, he wanted to see that ! And he did. Each upon entering had his hair and beard in pink little bows. They certainly noticed that, but that they multiplied if removed apparently not too quickly. The ripped at them franticly and by the point they noted the catch of it, all the dwarves had between 24 and 63 pink ribbons on his head.

  
Fili and Kili, who also found one of the Elvenking's ears very telling, could still grin at that and when Balin did, too, just happy about the youthful prank, even Thorin could smile:"Loki has recovered then ?"

  
"Admirably so, King Thorin."

  
The following politics mostly bored the fly on the wall and Loki returned to his room, thinking about his recovery. For it was not complete and that drove him mad.

  
-

  
Dale was discussed long, but would take longer still and Thorin agreed to solve the matter of Thranduil's claim first. Since Gandalf had lengthily talked at him about the importance of the white gems to Thranduil, he gave them up readily, grateful to be rid of the reason for various sermons from the wizard. For that Thranduil halved his expectation of gold as tribute to their involvement and losses in the battle for Erebor. And with that even the dwarves were happy again.

  
When evening fell and Thranduil could return to his room with the grandest treasure, objectively no greater than a hand-held wooden casket that held it, he felt like dancing as he had not since the death of his wife. Maybe he should ask Loki to dance with him. Surely the prince knew how. It would be expected in the Asgardian court as it was in any other. But it was not Asgardian what expected him. Loki was Jotunn again. Ruby and azure with mystical lines running all over his naked body.

  
"You do appear as insatiable as you said would be usual for a heat. Sure you're through with it ?"

  
"Yes, definitily. There is no risk anymore."

  
"Risk of what ?"

  
"Impregnating me."

  
"I would say that we never took that risk."

  
"Not yet."

  
He put the box away, thinking about how to word it and walked over to Loki, laying his hands comfortingly on the Jotunn's shoulder:"Loki, there is no rush for that. I like what we have. I love it and do not want to risk that for something we don't need, but that might hurt you."

  
"I want you to take me for real." And Loki stood before him in the same time as he gripped Thranduil's right by wrist and pulled it where he wanted to. Thranduil stiffened in distress, worrying too much. But he saw. Loki looked up at him with only affection, no fear or pain in his eyes, even as his fingers brushed the outer folds of that forbidden place. Hesitantly he put just a little pressure on them and they gave way easily. Beneath the cold skin, the slick flesh was warm, promising heat inside. Tight, slick heat.

  
He delved just a little deeper and Loki softly moaned. The prince smiled in obvious happiness and infected Thranduil with it, before pulling him down on the bed, his clothes already disappearing. The foreign creature almost devoured him then, kissing like there was no tomorrow and pulling his crotch close with both hands on his own behind. Thranduil felt like dreaming, his hurt lover proving himself healed and not just tolerating, but passionate.

  
He stroked him inside, coaxing him open to avert even the slightest burning once he entered. But when the moment came, he hesitated still and Loki urged him, knowing the problem at once:"Thranduil, it is over. I feel it, I am closed inside; you cannot do anything." Embarrassedly smiling he kissed Loki once more and rubbed his head against the eagerly slickening entrance. Slowly he nudged forth, his entire body straining with the effort of holding himself back.

  
Loki would have groaned in annoyance, but it turned out as a groan of pleasure instead as his inner walls already constricted around the guest, trying to pull him in further and milk him. And finally – Finally ! – the elf was as far as he could go. There he first had to rest to hold off of impending orgasm. The Jotunn's mating channel worked continuously. But he regained control and started shallowly thrusting, as Loki arched underneath him.

  
He had – consensually – only ever used that part in animal shapes, never as a Jotunn. He had missed so much. It was hardly a wonder that the Aesir considered the naturally polygamous Jotnar to only ever think about fucking. What else was important if that felt so good, so much better than as Asgardian or beast. He silently laughed at putting those in the same category and urged Thranduil faster.

  
And the elf did, mesmerised. He had felt it only a little before, but now that they were united as the mage's nature wanted, he could feel the other's magic running through his veins. It was everywhere, but bundled most in his brain, his hands and his tongue. But strangely, it also circled his belly like a ball of chain mail. Perhaps Loki had been impatient ? Smilingly he asked:"Are you sure that your body is though with it ? Or did you decide to put a magical safety in ? Can you do that ?"

  
"A magical safety ?"

  
"Your belly is brimming with magic."

  
But Loki was confused, not caught out, and slightly disconcertained, Thranduil ceased all movement. Loki then led a hand over his belly, frowning at the information. But then the icy colour in his face turned ashen and Thranduil pulled out in fear, asking what was wrong repeatedly, but unanswered. Loki only gagged and suddenly ran out. Thranduil followed in near panic and reached his beloved just in front of their room, collapsed to the cold ground and heaving up the contents of his stomach with tears in his eyes.

  
Only when nothing was left to throw up did he succumb to sobbing and Thranduil cradled him terrified of what warranted such a reaction. The frosty creature was shivering in his arms, when at last he admitted:"That spell in my belly. That was instinctual. My love, it was a mother's instinct. A ward for an unborn child. Thranduil, I am pregnant and I think we both know who last took me just this way."

  
And Thranduil was sickened as he imagined that Loki bore the child of Azog, the Defiler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I have a lot to do the next couple days and it's an important next chapter, so give me some time. I hope to upload 'Bestial Blood' by next Tuesday.


	18. Bestial Brood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki deals with his pregnancy and Thranduil is just as torn, but on top of that has to protect Loki from himself, as he does not take his prospect well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. Repeat: Seriously Warning ! Just wanted to warn you, because this is not the way to deal with a pregnancy however that came to be !!! And if you cannot swear that your current mental state would by a professional be accepted as 'entirely stable, balanced and all sane', then you might want to take a step back from me. Considering that you have read this story to this point – and clicked at it in the first place – I would however assume that you are more like my sort of person: Just the right kind of crazy ! And in that case, there's no helping it, anyway. I would just like to warn you still that this is not nice.  
> Also: Apologies, but this might be littered with writing mistakes. I had a bad headache today, but didn't want to go back on my sort-of promise. I'll look it through again later and if it's really bad, edit it in the next couple days.

But what could he possibly say to that ? He felt like throwing up, too. But never could he do that to Loki. The vulnerable young prince would no doubt think that he disgusted him now. Oh Valar, his love was carrying a half-orc child, what could he do ? What powers could solve such ? Was there any way to undo it ? Could Loki be rid of it ? He had heard stories.

  
But would Loki want that if it risked more ? Any poison to kill a child in the mother's womb could likely have other effects, too. Maybe permanent damage even. Would Loki want that if it risked his chance to ever have children again ? Would he himself want that for them ? What if it risked Loki's health ? Miscarriages had killed before and if the dead child did not leave ? What if the rotting, orcish body poisoned Loki from inside ? So many questions...

  
Such uncertainty ! So ominous their future. But he had to be practical. It was the only way to not break down sobbing over the unfairness of it all, as well. He tried as gently as possible to lift the trembling Jotunn and lead him back in. They did not need any ignorant dwarf's comment on both of them cowering naked in the corridor.

  
Still verbal consolation was no option. For even he his fried brain could have come up with something to say, the barbed lump lodged into his throat would not have let it past. That his breath did, was a miracle. He certainly felt as though he was drowning, choking on Loki's blood. He had not protected him. He had turned away from the battlefield, just about to leave them all behind. All this was just his fault. Loki would never even have left the forest, if he had not driven him away with his cruelty.

  
That night, both could have used some comfort, but neither was in any state to give it. Under any other circumstances, Thranduil's heart would have burst from pure joy at Loki calling him 'my love'. But now, it had clamped down to tightly, letting not the hint of happiness in, that there was not so much as the ghost of smile on his illusion-covered face, not even for a second. In the end, Loki cried himself to sleep in his arms without another word. But he did not follow suit.

  
He could not bear the ceiling over his head. He had stared at it too long, thinking of the worst. Loki was a highly magical creature and beautiful. But could that cure the foulness inside him ? It was not the child's fault that it was sired by rape. And he could not just 'get rid' of an innocent child. But with the blood of an orc in it, should its innocence really matter ?

  
If it was even remotely like their whole race, what ways could it go ? Was there any chance that it would not be like them, but just a naive little baby, full of curiosity and not a bad strain in its heart ? No orcs that he knew of were made such in their lifetime. That had literally been ages ago. So all their deformity and corruption was a result of their blood. Even they might have been innocent, unborn. But they had never had a chance to become anything other than murdering and marauding monsters.

  
What chance had then a child of Azog, even if by Loki ? And he thought on previous children of the defiler. The first that came to his mind was Bolg, the most infamous of the assumable mass. He did not know what his mother was, if an orc – he had never heard of a female of their kind – or something else. But imagining something like that thing to come out of his Loki just made his stomach rebel.

  
That and its like plagued him until he, too, fell into a fitful sleep.

  
-

  
In the morning, he rose early, dressed quickly and required to speak to Thorin. Bard met him in the audience chamber, apparently not having slept too well in the cold dwarven stone rooms. But he cared little. Bard was not overly insulted. He knew that he was not the Elvenking's priority and going by the way he talked about his fall-out with Thror before Smaug's attack, Bard was probably just an infant, anyway. Because for him, 'before Smaug' was a distant history only tales were spun about.

  
But something was odd still. The only other time he had seen the impeccable? king in such a careless state of dress, he had been getting rid of them in the privacy of his chamber, just about to take Loki. Why was he so lumpily? patched upon now ? He didn't really look radiate a placate? afterglow, so how come ? Bard was just about to ask, when Thorin entered with some of his entourage? and Thranduil spoke at once.

  
"King under the Mountain ...and King of Dale, I ask both your forgiveness, but an urgent matter requires my return to the Woodland Realm. And I would be especially grateful, if either of you could lend us two horses." Bard first of all wondered what they needed the horses for, since they carried little more than before, their guards still had theirs and Thranduil could as he had before still ride Loki in his stag-form.

  
Thorin, however, was a dwarf:"You only just came and we are far from done. Why leave so abruptly ? I would almost consider that rude. But I definitely consider it very rude, since no messenger has come since your arrival. None at all and certainly none from your kingdom. So why leave now ? Do you have what you came for and care not in the slightest about anything other than your own goal ?"

  
"I did not lie that I was called back. I said I was required. And that is as true as it is urgent. We need to leave this place." And there was a just noticable emphasis on the last 'we' that had Thorin narrow his eyes:"Is everything alright with Loki ?"

  
"That is not your business, dwarf."

  
"It is ! He was our companion and you will confess his trouble right now !"

  
Suddenly there was a long, thin line of light on the wall, just above Thorin's head, and Balin jumped between the two kings, bringing both sides to a halt. Only then did Bard realise that the line on the wall was a reflection of the room's cave lanterns, thrown back in Thorin's direction from the Elvenking's sword, gripped firmly and half drawn. Oh, that had escalated quickly. What had the tensions so high ?

  
Yet Balin was not only the oldest, but also the brightest of the company and the most diplomatic. He had learned that in their first meeting and now the white-haired proved it again:"Loki is a valuable ...associate of all of us and he appeared to trust you, King Thranduil, the most", that was mostly directed at Thorin. Only afterwards did he truly turn to the elf:"As his former companions we are very grateful to you for having taken such good care of him."

  
Thranduil relaxed some and Balin looked back to Thorin, who voiced his agreement in a mixture of a sigh and a grunt. So Balin continued:"Since you are our guest, not our prisoner, we would never keep you from your home, as it is. But as your intresest to aid Loki is in our interest as well, we gladly overlook any apparent rudeness and support our mutual goal as well as we can. Two horses will be readied for your departure immediately." Thranduil thanked him honestly grateful and turned to leave, but Balin added one last thing:"Just... please tell, when you are ready."

  
"If ever Loki will allow it ...and my heart can muster the strength, I shall." Thereafter he left and all were abandoned to their thoughts, their worry and wondering about what might be wrong with Loki. Only in Balin's eyes, there was something else. A dread that was more than general worry. And noting his advisor's look, the King under the Mountain asked:"Balin, do you know something we don't ? Have you seen some tell ? Please, what is it that you're thinking ?"

  
"I don't know any more than you, Thorin. But from that, a dark and vile guess has crawled into my head and I pray that I am wrong. But if I am right about that, you really don't want to know it. And even if not, you should not think of that option. Certainly not while we don't know for sure. However now, I would prefer to talk politics, lest my breath follows the Elvenking away, stolen from this terrifying option, we all must pray not to be true."

  
-

  
When the Elvenking returned to his chamber, he found his love still asleep, but dreaming. And from those dreams, he shook and flailed and silently screamed, his face contorted in horror. Thranduil's heart broke at the sight. His poor, poor love, so tortured by a dead orc still. But how should he wake him ? He would not hold him down ! In the end, as may have puzzled many a dwarf walking by and over-hearing his voice, Thranduil sat by Loki's bedside and softly sang to him.

  
It was just a simple lullaby he had known since his own childhood, oh so long ago. Vaguely he remembered a tiny, not yet speaking Legolas, dozing off under his mother's melodies. Magic lay in the verse, they said. But a voice alone, singing with all the heart behind it, was already enough. And he felt like crying, but from joy now, as Loki's troubled sleep was soothed, all his features relaxing, only from Thranduil's voice. Lulled back into deep sleep, Loki lood so tranquil; As if the world could not harm him.

  
Gently he woke him, then, with a feathery touch. And Loki was only plain sad. He apologiesed for causing him such inconvenience. But Thranduil did not let that stand:"Never believe that you are inconvenient for me. You draw out my heart from its long-standing shell, for joy or for pain, but you make me feel ! Most of my time, since I have come to that forest, has consisted of meaningless routine and dulling of any impression. I made myself a painting: Immobile, insensitive, not truly part of the real world anymore. You have returned me to life."

  
He did not know how to answer that and remained silent, until Thranduil, too, went back to packing his box carefully into a padded bag. Briefly he wondered, whether the elf expected him to carry him back. He really didn't feel like being ridden. But he supposed he could bare it, they had come that way, after all, and had no additional horses just with them for some reason. When they got to the gate, however, six horses waited beside their for guards, and Loki realised:

  
"They have mounts for us two. Why would they, when they know that you came astride me ? Thranduil, what do they know ?" And the Elvenking ached at the fear he heard in his love's voice: "No more than that I had ton return home and asked to borrow two horses. I am king of my own realm, not answerable to them. But in any case, Thorin has a good advisor, there is no new bad blood between us for it. Just be assured: I told them nothing."

  
Loki still did not like they well-wishes at his parting. Nothing ever said that something was wrong as unmistakibly as being 'reassured', and repeatedly more so. But it was not necessary to know what was wrong for being worried. Loki saw in their eyes that they had no idea, visibly taxing their brains for the reason behind their king's change in behaviour. Still the oppressive silence resonated back from them, their mood no higher than his own.

  
Back in Mirkwood, the people felt it at once. Moody again, their king. Always a pillar of continuity and imperturbabilty, of indomitabilty; But now his moods surged and dropped like a rowboat caught in an ocean tempest. It was disconcerting. And it got no better as time past. Some servants spread that the unsteady couple was sleeping in different rooms again. And one time that the couple had spent a lunch in one, they heard a terrible row from inside. That was, when Thranduil – with all the possible tact – asked Loki whether he could remove it.

  
The foreign prince was not seen days. It was not as though he had been seen all that much since his return, a bit more than two months ago at the time of the row, but afterwards there was only silence. Thranduil dearly regretted having asked, but they could not just ignore it and hope that it disappeared all by itself. By all chances, Loki's belly would soon start to swell and they had to consider their options. He didn't want to start planning, when it was born. And broaching the subject had taken enough courage to deserve a solution.

  
Loki could not believe it. The king truly wanted his child dead. He did understand the notion, but he could never let it happen. He knew exactly how, but if he murdered his own flesh and blood, his innocent unborn, he would not be able to live with himself afterwards. But he would not surrender it to a king who wanted its death, either. He had seen the fates of four children of his blood under a repelled king before. Never again. No matter the father, but he would never abandon a child of his again.

  
And he knew that it progressed ! He knew it best. He had been reminded of it twice very clearly. Only a few weeks into their return, he had faintly heard whispers about him and he didn't like rumours spread of him that he had not purposefully sown himself. Certainly not, when he didn't even know them. So he had tried to become a fly again, for eavesdropping. But his body had not let him. It had refused to obey his wish, his magic fighting itself. It had been painful, sending his belly cramping and aching.

  
That had been his child's shield, keeping him from shrinking down into a fly as that would have endangered its charge. It proved that the embryo had grown since their visit to Dale and Erebor, when he still managed to shift around the earlier tiny heap of cells. But even when that try failed, he could still become a cat and spy on them as such, even though it left him with a bitter taste on his tongue. Now, the cat was gone to him as well, the life within grown just too big.

  
He had tried not a whole month ago and failed, left to gasp in pain at his body's betrayal. But it wasn't really betrayal. It was the protection of his offspring from his own ignorance. And that was what he wanted also, eventually. He didn't like his nose rubbed in it, but that was his aim. Maybe it could redeem his failures as a parent of the past:

  
One child of his was cast from the light and to the bottom of the sea. One cast from life to the world of the dead. One bound in chains that cut into his flesh at the slightest move. One bound into a bridle to serve as slave. He had abandoned them to Odin's whims. No more. This he would save, even if only one. But he could not ensure its safety in the halls of a king who wanted it removed.

  
-

  
He was still certain that Loki had overreacted, even as he made up his mind to apologise. But Loki was pregnant and that had others before him be far more overemotional and strange in their own ways. They ate and smelled strange things and some were sick on a daily basis. He had to forgive Loki's outburst and he didn't want them on bad terms. Not while Loki was in such a shaky state.

  
So he went to Loki's seperate room and softly knocked. Not a word came out. Slightly embarrassed he called to him, asking for his permission to enter. Not a word came out. Agitated he told him that they needed to talk. Not a word came out. He opened the door, already upset, but found only a gaping void. Loki was not there. He called for the guards at the beginning of the corridor and inquired Loki's last movements.

  
"Why, my king, he was going to see you. Did he not find you ?"

  
"When did he leave for that ?"

  
"Early this morning. He wanted to have breakfast with for reconciliation."

  
"And he has not returned since ?"

  
"No, my king. He said he wanted to spend the entirety of the day with you, if possible, and only return in the late evening."

  
Then Thranduil had a very bad feeling. That showed that Loki was not only missing for hours already, but also that he had planned it and lied to his staff to avoid being missed and searched for, so he would have a day for headstart. It was witty, impressed him almost, but first and foremost left a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why did Loki want a day of not being searched for ? What was he planning ? Immediately Thranduil ordered all to search the whole realm for him.

  
-

  
All was in commotion, when they returned. So perhaps the stable-boys' bad news were not that bad in compare to whatever went on, already. They returned the freshly grazed horses to their stalls and edged towards the stable master. He would not be happy. As they neared they noticed that he was already not happy. When he noticed them, he unleashed all the power of his evil eye at them, making them cringe and shrink together a bit.

  
"You, what took you so long ! I have a dozen guards here, waiting for their mounts !"

  
"Sorry, we had a bit of a problem. The fence around the southern forest glade is ...erm... broken. Just a little part, but we will have to repair it."

  
"Of course ! Why didn't you return at once, when you saw it ? A horse could have run away, or something worse gotten in !"

  
But the shame in their eyes and in their cheeks said everything already.

  
"You lost a horse already, did you not ?"

  
"We didn't know there was a hole, we only noticed when returning, we found a horse less then before. We looked for it and found a section in the back, where the battens were broken apart."

  
"Which horse ? Not prince Legolas', I hope. The king wanted it here for his son's return !"

  
"Not that, no. A black one. We didn't recognise it, but it was in the stable wing due today, so we took it out with the others. Maybe some high guest's. Is there one, right now ? Beside the dragon-slayer, we're not sure ?"

  
"Not that I know of, but that one might not be here, either. All is being searched, right now. Maybe it was his horse and he broke it out to ride away. Just go and repair the fence, I will report to the king."

  
That was more easily said than done, however. The king – in a very very bad mood – was already being reported to constantly by all manner of people. It was hard to even get close to him. And when he finally reached the door, the guard only snorted at him:"About a horse ? The king is busy searching for a powerful, foreign dignity, not an animal ! Come back later."

  
We wanted to protest, but several more waited behind and various of those came to report of sightnings of the missing, so he acquiesced. Little did they know of Loki's gift in casting clomnes of himself. And the illusion of a mage of his magnitude were easily taken for real, even by an elven eye. So it was quite late, when finally he was first in line again and now also let in.

  
-

  
Thranduil was in despair. Loki really knew his art and had left them so many clues that they just could not follow all, but even when they did, nothing came of it. He was a ghost. Thranduil had admired his skill before, but never wished to see it used against him. Now he was listening to the umpteenth report that wouldn't lead anywhere, either. It wasn't even about Loki anymore, just some bla- A black horse ?

  
"Wait. We have no black horses. Not naturally. What was it's eye colour ?"

  
"My gravest apologies, my king, but I never saw it. Only the stable-boys that reported it to me."

  
"Show me to them now."

  
So he did and the king asked the cowed eye-witnesses the same about the horses's eyes. Strange. But the answer was stranger:"Green, I think, I didn't really look it in the eye." What horse had green eyes ? But the king had the answer he had look for. He thought for a moment and asked:"The southern forst glade, you said, but in what direction was the breach ?"

  
"South. A bit westwards. About the direction of old fortress, I suppose... Your grace."

  
The old fortress, of course. He had only asked ! But Loki will have interpreted his question negatively and gone where no-one would ask an orc's brood removed. Into their nest. To Dol Guldur.

  
-

  
On the fastest horse and dozens of guards behind him, he himself rode through the roten forest south. When they came to the river, they found a big part frozen and their horses crossed without a hop and afterwards they could follow a trail of dead spiders. Thranduil did not care about the border. His eyes were set only on his goal and that was Loki. But he did not find him, not before he reached the old, narrow stone bridge to the fortess.

  
Thy had to be too late, Loki was already inside. He urged his horse on, but it shied. They all did and his captain called out to him:"My king, we cannot go there ! It would be our death. Please do not go further. There could be anything still inside. We cannot go further." But the Elvenking was enraged at his disobedient horse and dismounted. A guard caught a rein of the almost bolting creature, but Thranduil was not deterred.

  
He strode forth determined not to even slow until he found his love. But his silent watcher would not have him risk his life:"You would truly die for me ?"

  
His head whipped around at that voice and he saw Loki, half-hidden in the shadow of an old tree. Not a second did he hesitate then to rush to his love and pull him as tightly as possible into his arms:"Oh, Loki ! Yes, I would. But to spend my life with you is much preferible." He only have noticed the wetness around his eyes, but Loki's puzzled expression all the better.

  
"You would truly die after milennia only for someone you have not known for three months ?"

  
"For you, Loki, in the name of love I would."

  
"More in the name of ignorance, from the looks of it. I wasn't even in there."

  
"You can't just be happy with me, can you ?"

  
"I carry a half-orc. No, I think, I can't."

  
That sobered him as well, but still he managed to convince Loki that he would not allow any harm to come to an innocent child in his realm and so they returned. All the kingdom was relieved at their king's joy. Just not Loki. Thranduil would give all to him, even at his own cost. How could he do that to him ? How could he condemn him and all his kingdom to a monster in their home ? But Thranduil did not trust him anymore.

  
For all his feelings, Thranduil was no fool. From now on, guards were stationed in front of his door and accompanied him wherever he went. He should have thought of that before he agreed to come back. He would not be able to run again. But he should. Even though he loved them, he knew that Jormungand cared nothing for the lives lost, when his moves tossed giant waves against ships and shore, drowned hundreds every year, and that Fenrir hungered for human flesh, second only to the sweet taste of the Aesir.

  
If his unborn turned out monstrous in shape and in soul, with such parentage, would not surprise him. But who was he to curse this unsuspecting people with such. If it inherited his magic, what would it be capable of ? That Thranduil would protect it for him was a sentimental weakness that would ravage his people until he had no other choice anymore. But Loki could not knowingly bring such pain to his love, only for his selfish hope of redemption.

  
Maybe he was not meant to make amends for his failures. Mabe he was meant to be punished for it. And he knew of one place, where monsters were not hunted, but where they ruled. A place no guard by the door could him from.

  
-

  
Thranduil was constantly pained by his love's depression, but at least he was there. He had not tried to run again these last few weeks. He was still there. And he was safe. And just that thought shot through his head with a dying scream as he entered the door to Loki's chamber and found him on his bed on a once white sheet, soaked through with blood.

  
Not healer slept that night. None even rested for single moment, as they desperately tried to save the prince's life. And Thranduil went through their dispute over and over again in his head. _'I could not live with myself if I killed my own child !'_ How true. He would not have to, if he killed them both.

  
When Loki woke again, still ghastly pale, Thranduil had no warmth for him:"You would kill yourself, knowing what I feel or did you never think of me ?"

  
"I think that you would torn apart between your promise to me and the well-being, the survival, of your people at the horror inside of me. And I have no illusions about that. I am no lamb and Azog is worse than any beast. Even in the luckiest of cases, it is a bestial brood I bear."

  
"But you can't kill yourself !"

  
"I know where I'd go. And both I and it would be welcome there."

  
"But I would not know where to go to follow you."

  
Only then did he realise how Thranduil was shaking and he rose to draw him in. Only then did the Elvenking's tears fall and they did not sleep apart again. The matter of no solution was not talked about again, but they remained together.

  
-

  
One night, that Thranduil could not sleep, Loki in his sleep started shaking. And he convulsed. Thranduil thought he had a nightmare again. But it was not so. Because then, he saw fangs growning from the unconscious form and horns and claws. In shock he saw his live'sfingers enlongate and membranes span between them and he himself was swallowed by his most haunting memory. A memory of wings and fire burning into his face: _A breath. No more than one single breath and in an instant the dying screams of hundreds are around him as blazing pain rakes through his side._

  
_The smoke and odour of scorched flesh fills his nose. He chokes on it, but the dragon_ _rises_ _anew. In desperate panic he grabbs his sword, always closeby, and with all his power behind it slashes at the beast and not yet done he already prepares to slash anew, to kill that monster that would devour his entire people ! But a strange sound halts him in his frenzy. Is that the splintering of wood ?_

  
_But there is no wood around. He turns to look where his sword is stuck in wood and sees the headboard of his bed. In his bed ? Why ? How ?_ Then realisation dawned on him as his last memories resurfaced from the old ones that had ripped him out of reality. And cold dread stabbed through his heart. He had slashed not only in the flashback, but reality, too. His sword was still in his hand and the only other one with him was Loki ! What had he done ?!

  
But Loki did not lie on the ground rattling for breath as his lungs filled with his own blood. He stood still, his ruby eyes shining, lighting the room from floor to ceiling in bright scarlet. It reflected from his sword and drew a sanguine line over their heads. But looking at his sword, he saw it clean. Not a drop of blood marred its mirror-like blade, but its edge was different instead. It was blunt. From wood ? Hitting a stone could abrade it so, but wood ?

  
He twisted it for a better look, but as he did so the blade's bright reflection hit Loki's chest and he stared in awe. That had kept Loki from being sliced in two and blunted the sharp egde of his sword in a second. A waistcoat of hard gems ! For sapphires would be put to shame at the comparison to these wondrous scales. A dragon's hide, near impenetrable and by his sword for sure. It had not even left a scratch.

  
But Loki, transforming, spoke to him:"My love, do you see ? I change against my will ! This has happened once before to the mare I received Sleipnir in, when he grew beyond my Asgardian skin, and I had to grow to bear him ! Do you see what this means ! My love, it is no orc, not Azog's child. It's Smaug's !"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. I mean, look ! It's not a half-orc ! And dragon babies are so cute, after all. And if anyone doubts that, I planned to make Smaug the father from the start ! Or at least from the point I found that Loki should get pregnant. Oh and you might have noticed the chapter number to have changed again. Well, I guess you're almost used to that by now. It is, however, over now. The next two chapters might rather be short than too long. They are 'Queen above all Mountains' and 'Final Goodbye or forever yours'. The former will likely be posted at the weekend, but since I have an exam closing in, I don't give a guarantee until Tuesday..


	19. Queen above all Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has to deal with dragon-Loki, as do his people (and accept comes with time, until fate drops another rock into their calmed waters.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone didn't like dragon-Loki, too bad, because he's staying for the rest of the story. Oh, and just for a warning: Its not all merry just yet. I know, I'm terrible.  
> Also: This got longer than anticipated again. But hey, it's still one chapter. The resolution for Loki's growth just sort of had a growth spurt of its own.

Just for a moment, Thranduil was overjoyed. 'Not Azog's child' was possibly the most amazing thing he ever had. Then his mind went blank. Smaug's ? Loki had killed Smaug. But... slept with him first ? He had seriously not only insulted him sleeping with a mortal man, but also spread it for a dragon ? He could not be serious !

  
He would have ranted at the impossible slut he called his love, but looking back at him, he found that he might have a literally bigger problem. A moment ago, Loki had been almost normal, but for the scales and horns. Now Loki, normally just a few inches smaller than him, okay maybe an inch smaller, was overtowering him by a head. And he wasn't even upright. He stood on the the balls of his feet, but his legs were bent zigzag like a wolf's, just more extreme.

  
And that was, when he noticed the tail curling around them. It thickened and enlongated as he watched. So did all of Loki and the next time he looked up, Loki was taller than him by three heads, his neck strechting by the seconds and his mouth morphing into a snout. By that time, his arms also reached to the floor, his fingertips back up to the ceiling. He was growing to the size of a dragon.

  
Going by those he had seen before, even the head and neck of a dragon would not fit into his bedchamber. A whole one ? Never. He could almost see the ceiling shatter and collapse on top of them. And more than one three store house would fit between this room and the forest ground, all in between heavy rock and earth. They would never get out of that. But Loki already had to bend his neck to fit, his head having bumped against the ceiling a moment ago.

  
He had to get him out of there. But at that growing rate, he would never get to the surface in time. He needed a lot of room closeby, the throne hall ! He called to Loki, who still glared up as if he couldn't comprehend that it was him who grew against it, rather than the ceiling hitting him. Not entirely calm about the evolving dragon before him, but unheard, he moved forth to touch the creature.

  
He was tentative enough, although it cost him precious time, but when the broadening beast noticed him, fangs snapped just above his head, only miscalculating his position due to its own neck already being longer than at the initial move. Why would he bite at him ? It was still Loki in there, wasn't it ? He looked into those red eyes, searching for recognition. But they didn't look at him. They looked like they were swimming. Something was wrong. Loki was not thinking in there.

  
Growing desperate as the dragon's spiked back bent against the ceiling, the heavy tail splintering their bed into a thousand pieces at one careless swipe, Thranduil ran out of options. He couldn't touch the dragon, unless he wanted to lose a few limbs, but neither could he leave him there and that stupid thing did not at all react to his voice. Then his eyes fell on the curtain cords of his former four-poster-bed, now a heap of rubble. If Loki behaved like an animal, maybe he needed a treatment like one.

  
The cords were a rope in a matter of a few knots and with another had a sling. Loki was a serious bulk then, folded into coil, but that had the advantage of distracting him from the sling thrown over one of his horns. He hardly noticed the pull that tightened it. Sadly, he also hardly noticed as Thranduil tried to pull him out. The dragon grunted once in annoyance as his head was jerked towards the door, but didn't really mind it.

  
Thranduil called for the guards, bitingly warning them not to injure the shape-shifter and had them pull collectively. He was almost ready to admit defeat to the stubborn ox of a prince, but finally he allowed himself to be moved, as if acquiesing to some nagging child. Did Loki not realise the problem ? But those eyes were dull, almost dazed. Just what was wrong with him ? Except from him not fitting his shoulders through the doorframe. They pulled on, knowing that it had to work as there just was no other way.

  
The dragon bared his sharp teeth and his whole throat vibrated from that deep, rumbling growl. The guards almost dropped the cord, but they were loyal to their king. Then, the dragon got really annoyed. With a roar he whipped his head around, ripping four elves from ther foothold, and rammed his horned head into the wall beside the door. The whole ceiling moaned when the wall gave way, breaking apart under the dragon's strength. And that was only the strength of his head and neck. What powerful creatures they were. And so dangerous to his people.

  
Thranduil violently shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts. Loki was no evil, he was just confused right now. And still growing. Thranduil took the cord again and tugged at the dragon as his guards came back to consciousness after the hard landing had knocked them out. The dragon actually did as he wished, but strangely sluggishly. What, by all the Valar, was messing with the elegant prince ?!

  
Luckily the royal quarters were close to the throne hall and they got closer quickly, since – no matter how sluggish he might have been – Loki had long legs and wings to heave himself on with. There was just that last door that looked too small for a cricket, at the moment. And Loki had only grown further since the last gate. When he reached the narrow door, Loki's head bent the frame out of shape, already. His neck passed relatively smoothly at first, but nearing his shoulders, the broadest part of his body, that slowly but surely changed.

  
The wooden frame groaned as it was bent and bent further by the thick flesh pressing through it. Thranduil was really glad that Loki was with him on that. No power of his kingdom could have gotten him passed elsewise. But even his might fail at that. The frame splintered, but the stone around it would not give so easily. It was not just a wall like that of his bedroom. The rock around that door was solid and Loki stuck right at the end of his neck, his winged shoulders just too wide.

  
The dragon strained against the rock. Back in the corridor, his back was pressed flat against the ceiling, his chest against the ground. Even his tail touched two wall at least, no matter how he moved it. That angered the dragon to no end. He pushed his feet into the floor and his wings and just shoved, but the stone was hard. The dragon was enraged. He roared and writhed and tossed his head and tail to all sides. Thranduil shivered as a crack went through the wall above the door.

  
The dragon pushed and the crack spread. Had he had any breath to speak, he would have shouted for Loki to stop. But his voice died in his throat as the dragon drew back for the finale. And with one last lunge huge chunks of rock broke out from the wall as the dragon broke through the solid rock, leaping into the air of the wide hall, while boulders crashed down around him, some taking bridges with them, and screams echoed around.

  
Something broke in Thranduil as he heard his people's terror, but Loki didn't know what he was doing, did he ? He turned to see the creature, already past him and still growing taller. But the dragon reeled. He beat his wings irregularly, sinking. The tail crashed two more bridges, making the Elvenking wince, then he appeared to attempt a landing on one, but the stone structure cracked under his weight. Finally he found a thicker one, the most stabile bridge in all the hall, but even that seemed to bend a bit under him. It held, though.

  
Knowing its limits, the dragon tried to lean on as many bridges as possible. See, he didn't want to destroy ! But something had to be seriously wrong. The dragon trembled. He looked as though he could hardly hold his head up and then he looked up, catching Thranduil's eyes. And they were clear now. It was Loki back in there. And he saw despair in them, just a moment before the dragon's legs and wings gave out and he collapsed. His head hit the plateau of his throne, cracking the floor.

  
He tried to lift it once more. But then his eyes rolled back in his skull and he slumped for good. The elf's blood froze. He wasn't- was he ? He ran for him, racking his brain for what could possibly have caused this. What was so different ? Loki had done nothing but shape-shifted. And that he had done hundreds of times before. Usually into animals, but into a dragon once also.

  
And then it seared through him like liquid fire in his veins. The last time Loki had turned into a dragon, Bard had mentioned something, asked the hobbit about it, a trinket burnt out by the use. A power source, because Loki alone could not sustain such a great shift. This time, he had had no choice and no additional energy. This shift against his will had sucked all power out of him. He could only beg that it was no more than Loki could survive losing.

  
-

  
_Loki's vision swam before his eyes, mulled sounds only barely reached his seemingly cotton-stuffed ears. What just happened ? Then a dull ache, more like unease than real pain knocked against his head. Had someone hit him. He looked where it had come from, but saw only greyish ..., well, something greyish, or brownisch. Something, anyway. Sounds filled the air again. Was it song ? No, it had no melody. But it was a singing voice. Thranduil, or Frigga ? He couldn't have told them apart. Why ?_

  
_Oh, but he had hit his growth spurt. Surface texture was one thing in shape-shipfting, filling out a huge body, however, was another thing entirely. Especially one as kolossal as a dragon's. Something tugged at him. But that was his least problem right now, even though it repeated itself until he followed. But his real, rather immense problem was that he didn't have a dragon body at the ready and not nearly enough energy to make a new one. Trying would kill him._

  
_But he didn't need to make an entirely new one, did he ? No. He had been forced to destroy his original only for a part to gain the energy his healing had required. So it wasn't ready, not complete. But he had most of it. The rest would take a lot of energy, though. Seriously, a lot. He might have to sleep for a bit again. Thranduil would be pissed. Speaking of bad moods, what in the nine was holding his shoulders down ? He was a dragon, none could hold him down !_

  
_A swipe of his head solved that. But the world was getting tighter around him still and soon he was stuck again. But this time, it constricted his breathing. Now that he really couldn't accept. It took more effort, but he cleared his path of that obstacle, too. But he shouldn't use his energies up on such. He needed to sleep. If he didn't, he would drop. He needed to rest. Thranduil would understand. He always did._

  
-

  
Thranduil was at a loss. He knew that Loki hadn't intended for it, but the heart of his kingdom was streaked with cracks and his people were scared to death. They had a live dragon in their midst and the king forbade to fight it, to kill it, while they still had the chance. Instead he had called upon every ever so faintly magically talented, healer, councilman or guard, that they did all they could for him. They had to think him mad. He certainly noticed them looking as he sat by Loki's head, day after day.

  
The bridges were only provisorily repaired. His kingdom had been hewn into this stone without a flaw, but even if the dragon's damage was repaired in stone, the cracks would always remain and a part of him hoped that Loki could repair them magically or at least hide the cracks. After he awoke. He so hoped that Loki woke soon. With absolute certainty he knew that he could not wait for weeks again. Not with those thought coursing through his head.

  
But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Loki certainly didn't plan for the consequences or he would not have panicked so about carrying 'Azog's' child. Unless he did consider Smaug a possible father and just didn't tell him. He surely wouldn't have. Loki was a politician. He would never have admitted to having slept with what he knew to be Thranduil's greatest fear, if he wanted his help, shelter and provision, despite carrying its offspring inside him.

  
But why had Loki slept with Smaug at all ? And who else had he slept with, that he didn't know about... Thorin had appeared awefully worried about Loki's need to return to the Woodland Realm. The dwarf was extremely stubborn, really trusted only his kin and despised allmost all tall folk. He had no reason to care about Loki so, unless there was something between them. He didn't know Loki was more useful than Gandalf and didn't even demand payment for his – unlike Gandalf – unquestioning support, which was the grand prize of a companion for a dwarf.

  
...Also he wondered, if that hobbit had truly given up his magical energy source to Loki out of pure charity. It had to be costly if it contained enough energy to allow Loki to fight Smaug just after shifting, when he normally had to sleep for weeks to recuperate enough for walking upright. Such was hard to come by and Loki could have offered him a lot for it. But he couldn't think like that, it would make him paranoid. Unless it was too late for that, because now sleeping with Smaug fit a pattern before his eyes.

  
Beorn was a shape-shifter by blood whose other form could run through an army of orcs almost unscathed, but with a kill talley of dozens to hundreds. He was a king of – concernig time – immortals. Smaug had been the King under the Mountain, impossibly wealthy and undefeated, an extremely powerful flying firedrake. Loki slept with the mighty. Even Bard, although a bargeman then, was of highborn ancestry and now a king. Loki went only for the high and mighty. But... because any less would insult him ? Or for a purpose ?

  
He didn't want to consider that, it hurt and scared him, but the truth was that he fully trusted the magical prince to be both cunning and detached enough for such an act. He was a king in all but the title. But he loved him. But that was only the word of a trickster in a time of need. A deceiver ? Never ! He could not believe that. "Oh Loki, why can you not wake and calm the turmoil in my heart ?"

  
Nigh a week had past already by then and come morning, Thranduil rested tightly wound together on top of Loki's long snout, almost as wide as their bed had been. He didn't want to part from him and sleeping by next to his great muzzle once had resulted in panic at waking up next to teeth the length of his arms. So he slept on top on a bed of surprisingly comfortable scales, waving at the sides from the breath srteaming through the giant nostrils. A constant, placating reminder that Loki was still alive.

  
Beside that, only a blanket covered him against the cold. Not that the frost creature was very cold at the moment. But he was recuperating and that was all that mattered; until he'd wake and they'd have a very important talk, at least. But that was not going to happen for a while, he imagined. Loki was, despite his power, just not almighty. And he seemed stronger than Gandalf, who as Maia basically a lesser god. What did that make Loki ?

  
It likely changed nothing about the mystery he was. But he did wonder what Jotunn meant to the Aesir. And what that meant, if it meant anything. It might be something along those terms. Such pondering was much better than paranoia, he found. But it could not truly quell his worry, just to disract himself. But Loki was only exhausted, not in any danger, he reminded himself. Then he wondered. Just before Loki realised that he was pregnant, Thranduil had been able to feel his magic pulse through him. Might he be able to do that again ?

  
Radagast had felt the fellow magician's energy level without intimate contact, so it had to be magically possible. Intrigued now, whether he could feel the difference to earlier as well, he turned and pressed his hands down on Loki's forehead, concentrating hard. He focused on that feeling he had had of him before, but nothing happened. He tried for hours, until his head just ached to much. But he had managed before, even without such concentration ! Maybe that was the point though. He tried again, just feeling Loki's essence.

  
And Thranduil gasped, when the dragon seemed to explode in light before his eyes. Magic lay in all of it. It was centred mostly in his brain again. A big part in his tongue again, but nothing noteworthy in his fingers anymore. Because they were wings now, not hands to wield anymore. His belly had a much larger ball in it now and newly also his chest. His lungs spun nets of intense magic around themselves. For his dragon-breath likely; firey for most, but wonderfully icy in his case.

  
The magical pulse seemed no lower than it had been before. Quite in contrast to his actual pulse, which was distressing. Feeling inside him, Thranduil only really noticed what thick scales had hid so far. Loki's heart beat only once every few minutes ! But he lived. Somehow he still lived, but Thranduil as all the more determined to give everything to insure his recovery. And just as he thought that. Wanted that, while so closely connected to Loki's magic, his felt like he was torn out of his body.

  
He panted for air and all light was withdrawn from his eyes as his balance went flying. Not a moment later, he collapsed on top of the dragon, fainted from the loss of almost all his energy. He had wanted to give it to Loki. The magic only obeyed. But he got his result. For a moment later, two big, ruby red eyes sleepily opened, scaled brows furrowing at something tickling his nose. And Loki looked at the king on his face in puzzlement.

  
-

  
His head felt trampled, when he woke. Oh dear, what had happened ? He had not had a hangover, since he realised that even a spark of magic could clear a head of any such. He tried now, but strangely, it didn't work. He felt exhausted. And like had slept on stone floor, going by the kinks in his back. He felt cloth beaneath him, though. So he elbowed his hostile bed, but bit his lip from the sudden pain exploding in his arm. It gladly faded almost as fast as it had come, but he was definitly awake now.

  
That was not his bed. Looking down, he found beneath the blanket he was wrapped into a slab of ice. But the ground looked strange, too. Then the fate of his bedroom came back to him and he looked around to find himself on the platform beneath his throne, just where Loki's head had landed. But it wasn't there anymore. And neither were the cracks in the floor he sure remembered the horned head's landing to have caused.

  
Wonderingly he looked over to the ruptured bridges. They were whole. And seamless on top of that, as if it had never happened. It had happened, though... it wasn't just some figment of his imagination, right ? Surely so. Or he would be lying in his bed. Thinking about his ripped open bedchamber, he turned around to look for the crack above the door to the royal wing. Technically, he could have seen it seamlessly knit back together as well.

  
But his eyes did not make it that far, because from he wall opposite the waterfalls, he spotted a giant ledge extend into the hall. Like a great eyrie of ice. And as if on cue, thundering wing beats echoed through the hall as a great blue head rose from beneath to his level and seated himself on the cold nest. It cracked slightly, but the dragon just directed his wide mouth and a jet of winter-cold steamed from his throat, freezing the weakened ice anew and fixing it tighter to the wall.

  
Then he looked back at him, almost smugly:"How do you like my renovation ?"

  
He shivered a bit at the strange voice. Had he not known that it was Loki, he would not have recognised it. The dragon's different mouth-shape and vocal chords had to be responsible. But he tried not to mind the smooth voice of his lover having turned deep and rumbling for norm. And that reminded him again of that conflict with himself he tried to ignore. Because Thranduil was torn inside.

  
One part of him was maddened. He was the elder and he had lived and ruled untouched for centuries in complete control. Sure, some had considered him arrogant for it. He was not unaware of that. But he simply was the king. He had to be objective and his pride was natural to his station. It would insult his kingdom, not to be proud of his achievement. Now things changed so often and so dramatically, that more often than not he was the one surprised, in awe again and again like some inexperienced little child.

  
But another part was just for that same reason amazed. His own private lover god could surprise him and make him giddy like an excited little child that saw the world for the first time, even after all he had lived through. It warmed him inside and he smiled at the massive creature, even though there was that third part. A tiny part of him he would never admit. But it filled with fear. Nothing in the world scared as a dragon did. Mass destruction incarnate.

  
"I might need time to get used to it. But you're a quick builder. Unless... How long did I sleep ?"

  
"Not long. Jusst about thsree dayss."

  
"What ?"

  
"Sseriously, what did you exspect ? You emptied you energies into me, after all. Thsat could have killed you, if not for you subconscious self-presservation intervening."

  
"I did ? I don't really remember. I wanted to feel your magic."

  
"Oh, thsat's how. I wondered how you did it, considering thsat you are not actually a sorcerer."

  
"I know, Loki, there's no one close to mighty you."

  
"Thsat's not the point. But all thse magic you have ever used to my knowledge was willed, not spelled. Your race iss magical. All of your kind are somewhat gifted. But hardly any of you have learned how to use it. I wass taught, tutored and read libraries of tomes to perfect my skill. You could make more of your gifts, too. Admittedly, even your full potential would not reach me. But my kind iss infamous for the power of its blood. Thsey have other weaknesses. You could improve by far, still."

  
"...How ?"

  
"Let me teach you. A great sorcerer can only come of you by the use of an artifact for additional raw power, but in my lifetime I have only met a handful who were truly great withsout any. And I have met hundreds over hundreds of sorcerers in my travels. Most use artifacts or they keep to lighter magic to hinder word of their gift from spreading. If an enemy thsinks you without magic, even a tiny bit can give you an enormous advantage. Taking them by surprise or jusst tipping a pebble down a snow sslope."

  
"I would be most grateful then. Even if it would not pulse through me as vibrantly as- pulse."

  
"Hm ?"

  
"Your pulse was so low. So horribly low."

  
"Thsranduil, I am gigantic. My heart does not have to beat as often as yours, it is big enough to fit you insside. And surely you musst know the effect of that. Or does yours beat as frequently as a mouse's ?"

  
That he had not thought about in his panic, but Loki's words drew his mind to something else again:"Your heart can literally take me inside, you mean ?"

  
And Loki hestitated a wonderful moment, before neutrally answering:"Yess, literally."

  
But his fears ate at him and he could not delay it any longer:"Loki, why did you sleep with Smaug ?"

  
"You had sent me away. What would keep me from it ?"

  
"That's not a reason ! Loki, speak honestly, why did you sleep specificly with a king of elves, a future king of men and the dragon King under the Mountain ?"

  
Now he understood. The question Thranduil really asked was not 'why'. It was 'for what purpose'. And that was not purely the question of a jealous lover. He had to be extremely careful answering that question, or Thranduil would think him manipulation him for his power, which as king he had to fight down. Ironically enough, Loki needed his skill in manipulation to get out of that. To Thranduil advantage, though, the best manipulation, best web of lies, was always based on truth. So the king got his true answer:

  
"Because he was alone."

  
"And you acted out of pity, before you killed him ?"

  
"And I thsought withsout kin he had no-one he might favour over me. Unlike everyone else I have ever been close to before. But then I realised thsat he did not have anyone because he favoured none over his gold. He was thse first to take the aggressive stance."

  
That was a low blow and he knew it. But unreadable to most the king was not used to emotional manipulation. So Loki got away with it as Thranduil lowered his eyes in shame.

  
"I am sorry. And I shouldn't have doubted you."

  
"You were right to. You're king. Your duty exceeds your wishes."

  
"Thank you. Now I'm calmed by a dragon."

  
"I am dragon-shaped, not a dragon."

  
"Yes. But what are you really ?"

  
"A Jotunn. You know that."

  
"The word, perhaps, but it means nothing to me. All I really know is that are frosty and bigendered with the power of a little god."

  
And Loki grinned:"A god ?"

  
"Relatively speaking. Why, were you called so before ?"

  
"Not really. Only by an entire world of humanss for a few centuries of their development."

  
And Thranduil laughed. His sectretive lover just so happened to be a prince amongst gods.

  
-

  
Both awake, they started trying to set up some sort of normalcy. The elves were scared of Loki, naturally. But his rebuilding and the renewed happiness of their king lightened that somkewhat. It spread soon that Loki had defeated Smaug by shape-shifting into a dragon and duelling him as such. But to really get them fine with him again – as Thranduil would not choose between his people and his love – they required serious persuasion. Loki's area of expertise.

  
The next time, spiders were spotted in his realm, Thranduil had his guards stand down and just watch. It took no more than three of Loki's heartbeats and their massive swarming was was silent as a grave, their webs frozen and shattered. For show, Thranduil directed his every action in that, mounted on his back as if Loki was still a stag. The guards were in wonder as the dragon obeyed their king in everything, a mount rather than a danger, and spread the word.

  
To fill his huge stomach, Loki flew out every night to hunt in the south of the forest. Thranduil mentioned his 'patrol' to the council apparently in passing. His ease in dealing with the dragon, even if for a small part still show, did its work. The elves would get used to the dragon in their midst eventually. Then, one day, a letter came from Erebor. As their last meeting had not solved all they had hoped for, the kings of dwarves and men had met again and wondered, whether the Elvenking might join them now.

  
It did not ask about Loki, directly, but Thranduil knew the first question they would ask him there. So he considered his options, told Loki about his idea and with his reluctant acceptance, invited his council along. They were honoured, of course, that their king trusted them so. That did not prevent their shock, though, when they stood before something he had not mentioned at first. They had expected to ride horses to the mountain.

  
But there were no horses, when they left the gate. Loki was there. Some were still wondering how the dragon got through the door, unaware that Loki had 'renovated' a magically concealed passage into the back of his new cave, just behind his platform. Constantly reinforcing his ice eyrie had just gotten too annoying. The tunnel had roughly the diameter of Thranduil's throne platform and surfaced in the rock wall down the river, not that anyine could perceive it. Nor pass it really. The entrance was spelled to be solid, unless it was touched cooled to a frostbiting degree.

  
Loki would never risk the security of Thranduil's realm. More safeties were enchanted into it further down, to kill anything making it through the entrance. Loki was diligent for his lover. And only for him did the tolerate the other elves on his back. Their fear calmed his pride, though. Thranduil he did not mind ontop of him, those he barely accepted, but the king was right in his hopeful assumption. Once he lifted them into the sky and they could see far and wide from his docile form, their doubt of him evaporated, only joyful tears at the beautiful sight remaining.

  
Many dwarves and men were fearful, too. But Thorin and his company hailed the slayer of Smaug and their friend. So did Bard and the public was at least somewhat calmed. The elves could be aloof, fine with the beast all others were scared of. As Thranduil dealt with the politics, Loki lounged in Erebor's front hall, diding his smirk at the spectators and the children, arrived from the Blue Mountains and Iron Hills, that played who-dares-closest-to-the-dragon. He watched them happily. Children...

  
When they left again, all diplomacy solved, the popolation of Erebor were assured that the blue dragon was tame, no threat at all. The children loved him. As the council spread their impressions, the elves were reassured almost completely, as well. Thranduil's plan had worked. But it had also caused something else. Thranduil was still somewhat uneasy about the scaled giant's form, but he had found a love for flying. No stagback riding, no matter how fast, could ever compare to the free flight on top of a dragon. Thranduil did not understand Smaug anymore. Greed he knew. But what dragon proudly called himself King under the Mountain, when they could rule the skies ?

  
Thranduil started accompanying Loki on his nightly ventures. To see the world beaneath him, to cross the skies, surpassing the clouds, that was liberating, beautiful, plain heavenly. And he encouraged Loki to go further. They flew higher and faster, pivotting and spiraling through the open air. Rising and letting themselves fall, only to ris anew. They flew further also. Beyond the edges of Mirkwood. Loki overflew Beorn's home once, roaring in greeting. Thranduil seethed, when the bear roared back to its ex, but a somersault returned his focus on their fun.

  
Just to test his limits, Loki overflew the Misty Mountains, too. He had never been west of them and listened in interest as Thranduil explained what lay there, thinking about this pregnant koloss so high, no King beneath, but a Queen above all Mountains, Empress of the Skies. He considered visiting Bilbo. But that might be too far. With one look from the distance down on the Hidden Valley that Thranduil refused to vist, mumbling about 'Noldor', he turned home. Because it was home to him, now. But as if destiny wanted to spite him, it was that time, that it happened.

  
Just behind Rivendell, he overflew the Misty Mountains again and there he felt it. There was a cloud above the mountains' mist. Higher than the highest peak. He wanted to fly over it, when he noticed something strance. The white cloud had a tinge of blue in its centre, only visible to his magical eye, and a tinge of red and of green and gold and purple. His blood froze in his veins when he realised, just what that familiar radiation emitted from its centre was. This, he noted, had to be where he fell through. This cloud, that bore the colours of the rainbow in its heart, hid a portal.

  
He had not found one in his search. But now that he was at peace, or had been; now he had found a way back to the nine realms of Yggdrasil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done. And I suppose, the meaning of 'Final Goodbye or forever yours' is clearer now. I'm super nervous because of my exam however. What devil invented Phonology ?!!! Anyway, the next update might take a while. Don't expect me to start writing until Thursday, but I'll try to keep to myat-least-once-a-week aim.


	20. Final goodbye or forever yours ? - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has to decide. Tell Thranduil or not ? Return or stay ? He is still there, but now may go back again. And does he still want that ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I know, I know, I said two. Well, I ... don't have any real excuse. Except that this particular cliffhanger - no, don't jump ahead !!!!!!!!! - was too good to pass up. And just so you know, while I could never have had the father of Loki's child any other, in this case both options are entirely possible. I have my plans :)

Loki was in a quandary.

  
If he turned right now, he could go back home. But he could not take Thranduil with him. The king was needed in his kingdom. But if he brought him back to Mirkwood and afterwards returned to the portal alone ? Not possible. Thranduil would never knowingly let him go and he never flew out on his own anymore. The elf would know that he was up to something if he asked him to stay behind.

  
And even if he did get away, Thranduil might search for him and within months or centuries, he would find the pathway. He would guess something changed now and remember where they had been. He would follow him and find himself in an unknown realm of gross monsters or enemy armies. Loki couldn't let that happen. Maybe he could fake his death, so Thranduil wouldn't go to look for him. By orcs or wargs ? Difficult, he was a dragon, there was not much that could plausibly kill him now.

  
He had to consider a lot to find a suitable story and Thranduil's nagging didn't help him with that. By the Norns, what was wrong now ? For someone who always asked to join him, the finicky king did keep finding things to bitch about. 'We are too low, someone will see us' 'We are too high, it's clammy, Loki, I'm freezing !' 'We are too fast, I can't see anything' 'We are too slow, I'm getting queasy from this up and down of your wings.'

  
Usually that was easy to see past. He was flying and mightier than ever before; he was feeling wonderful. But now Thranduil kept hitting his back – not that it hurt, but it annoyed him – and shouting constantly. 'Loki, turn. Loki, you need to turn or rise. Loki, up, soon ! Loki, you're going to crash us ! Loki, by all that is holy, do something, we are going to strand here if you cripple yourself flying into that mountainside !' Really, he was so- Wait. Fly into a mountainside ?

 

-

  
He had been a bit distracted by his thought process. But now that he looked ahead, he saw sharp rocks right in front of him and hurtling closer at a breakneck speed. No, that was not the rocks. It was him unknowingly speeding at them against the side of a mountain. Immediatly he spun his wings to veer out of his crash course and – especially happy about his easily manoeuverable dragon-shape – he just avoided chafing his fingertips on the rockside. His tail hit the mountain due to his late turn and he hissed in pain, but the loose stone took the brunt of the impact, broken off chunks rolling down the mountainside in a roaring avalanche.

  
Loki could almost literally feel Thranduil glaring fire and brimstone at him. He did warn him much earlier. "I'm sorry about that. I might have been daydreaming."

  
"Might have been ? Loki, you have a great responsibility, now. You are carrying three, right now. Remember ?"

  
"I think I know that better than you, thank you."

  
"Really ? Because I think I might as well have been singing and dancing on your nose about the summer and the rain and you wouldn't have noticed."

  
"I would like to see you dance and I would always notice singing."

  
"Oh, would you ?"

  
"Yes. My ... The Allmother used to sing to me, when I was still a child."

  
"The Allmother ?"

  
"Yes. Well, for some reason the king of Asgard has himself called the 'Allfather' and, although she never said a word about it, that has lead many to call the queen the 'Allmother'. But full of love and kind advice like motherly guidance, she more than deserves that title."

  
A lot could be heared out of that. That he, the king, had himself called so, while she – and only she – deserved it. It screamed Loki's opinon of them. The king he loathed, but he loved the queen. Thranduil in that moment found himself wishing to meet that rare and wonderful woman that could inspire such love and adoration in the widely hated and scorned son of her enemy.

  
"Was she a mother to you ?"

  
"I know nothing of my own, after all. Not even whether she lives or what her name is."

  
"That's not an answer."

  
"...Yes. Queen Frigga was a mother to me."

  
"I am sorry that you are parted then. I don't remember mine, either. I was told she passed from childbirth. A sibling too soon after me. She wasn't ready again yet. My father raised me on his own."

  
"What happened to him, as I take it age cannot end yours ?"

  
"No, it cannot. He... There was a war. He fell. I could have faded that day, watching him die. It was... We were rather close and I had never expected to lose him. But I couldn't. I had to stay strong for our people. They needed a leader or all would have died. It was the worst of wars. But it is long over now."

  
"I honestly don't know whether to pity or to envy you. I have met my blood father a total of three times before he died, and in two of those we didn't even really talk to each other. I would have wished for a father to love, who would love me back, accepting me as I am. But love can only end in hurt, as well. So I might be better off without it..."

  
"It is a little awkward, though. Talking about that at the height of the clouds."

  
"Would you rather discuss the dead beneath the earth yourself ?"

  
"That was not funny, Loki."

  
"I wasn't trying to be funny, Thranduil."

  
He was a moment short of a biting comment of his own, when suddenly Loki turned so sharply that he almost threw his rider off. Thranduil gripped the little horns at his shoulders tightly in reflex and became abruptly aware of his rather precarious position. But the technique only worked half. He got the message and quieted, but he was not distracted. Loki bore more on his heart that he simply refused to share.

  
There was something more about it. A secret that Loki kept from him. Oh, but he could write an epic about all that Loki hid from him. He would have to be watchful, though.

  
-

  
They returned just before sunrise after their long journey and the king groaned about the little time he had left to sleep before his duties. For a moment, Loki considered offering to assist him, but he had too much thinking to do for hat. So, as Thranduil held court or held council or something, he laid in his cave by the side and didn't really listen, while he played it all through in his head. Would Thranduil let him go home, if he told him just how much he missed his mother ?

  
But if he told him even more, when would his lie become unsustainable for him ? Thranduil still believed him a ward of war, after all. Should he tell him the truth, that he had been a prince, but only by lie. It was not too far from the truth. But a lie still and he wasn't entirely sure if his sometimes still edgy relationship with the king would survive that. That he had let Smaug at him and not told his lover had put enough strain on them.

  
Admitting to have not just not told him something, but purposefuly lied, was likely much worse. And kings didn't like being lied to. It really would help their situation, if Thranduil was just more submissive. But maybe he could wind himself out of it if he played submissive and presented the king a great treat of the carnal nature ? All males were the same in that and docile behaviour might show him regretful, which could perhaps soothe the hurt of deception a bit.

  
Yet his current form was not exactly ideal for sex with the elf. Seriously, the king was tiny right now, smaller than his tongue. But his form was a big problem in either case. Whether he told Thranduil or not, he would have to wait for his offspring to be born, so he could shift back before he went to Asgard. They would think him a monster and send Thor to kill him, if he didn't. Because no matter what he said, they would think it a wily dragon's lies to distract their military efforts and kill them.

  
But if he waited, what would he do with his child, once he went to Asgard ? He would never leave it to Odin. But could he be sure that he was able to protect it ? A moment asleep might be enough for the king's men to steal it away and use it as leverage over him or do something even worse to it. No, he couldn't take a newborn with him, nor leave it to Thranduil, who still was all too easily afraid of him in this form. But what else could he do ?

  
Maybe he should wait until it was old enough to care for itself. But that might be centuries. Would they even remember him then ? Did they even remember him now ? Was it even now ? He had no idea how long he had drifted in the void expanses of space, before he was sucked in by this world's gravitation. Did left over energies from the Bifrost catapult him here or in the proximity ? Or did he float here, slowly, in coma ? Years could have passed on Asgard whithout him knowing. Maybe even centuries, already.

  
He wouldn't know. He had nothing with him that could hint at time passing but his own flesh. But his body didn't age fast enough to tell. But his heat ! He had thought it jumping closer in season due to his transformations into his actual, Jotunn body, but not minded the year. He thought back and shivered from the result. Because if he remembered correctly, his last heat had not been too long ago. Thor's coronation had already been announced. Far from prepared, but planned. He might have skipped a few decades at least.

  
In that case, he probably didn't have to return soon. It wouldn't make any difference now. They thought him dead anyway. Yes, he was dead to them. They would be shocked, if he showed up again. And that was, when his conscious self realised what his subconscience was leading to. 'If' he showed up again. Not 'when'. He was dead, his misdeeds long buried. Who was he to dig it all up again by just reappearing ? But actually, why did he want that in the first place ? They had only ever hurt him and here he was happy.

  
But it was wrong. He had fallen without another word to mother, without goodbye, without closure. So many things had been left unsaid. And if only for that, but he had to return to Asgard.

  
-

  
He was no idiot. Loki was up to something, he knew. The dragon-shaped prince was almost constantly in deep thought. And sometimes he just stared into the thin air. On their nightly travels he slowly shifted their paths from westwards to southwest to south. They had seen Lorien, albeit from afar as not to disturb the forest's peace. Now he mostly flew to the southeast. He avoided the west and hoped that due to the slow change, Thranduil might not notice, but he did. And he also knew exactly that all this had started with that strange almost-collision in the Misty Mountains.

  
Or on that trip at least, the near crash had been the first effect. But what was with the those mountains ? He drew together all he had ever heard from everyone concerning Loki and the Misty Mountains. It was not much. Loki had mentioned that he had never been beyond them. But the dwarves had come from Rivendell on their other side, Thorin had told him to justify his ownership of Orcrist. So Loki had met them after they left Rivendell. But he had admitted to having lain with Beorn who lived not far east from them.

  
He cringed at that, the thought of another having his lover still uncomfortable, but refocused. Had Loki met Beorn and then the dwarves had come to them both ? It was possible. But no ! On his last political trip to Erebor as all the dwarves questioned him about Loki, one had asked whether Gandalf might help. He had snorted as Gandalf never would have helped Loki and another dwarf – he couldn't really tell them apart, all just smelly little mortals – had chided the first about that.

  
If Thranduil remembered correctly and he was sure that he did, then that other darwf had said that even Gandalf's eagles had not liked Loki. But Loki never directly met the eagles in the great battle. The only other time the dwarves had met the eagles to have witnessed their dislike of Loki was at the edge of the Misty Mountains. They had sung various war hymns about Azog's wargs burning and getting thrown off the cliff by the great birds before they themselves flew away on them. So Loki had to have met them in the Misty Mountains.

  
Maybe that was where he came from, where he first stepped into their world. Maybe overflying the mountains had reminded him of that. Maybe such a reminder had made him homesick. Was he thinking about leaving, was that it ? In panic he dropped everything and ran for Loki. He could not leave him !?

  
-

  
Loki really did like the gleam of his sapphire scales. Smaug might have had unfortunatly chosen priorities, but his compliments still warmed him. Thranduil had never once uttered a positive word about his current shape. True, he had been rather terrified by it from the start, but that had waned ! These days, Thranduil loved riding him as a dragon, he had even slept on his nose. The elf could not pretend to be too scared for a nice word, anymore.

  
As if he heard him thinking, Thranduil rushed towards his throne hall plateau, the closest point to the dragon lair he could reach. He was slightly out of breath and a bit untidy, likely from the running. But above all he seemed desperate:"Loki, my sweet winter-cold, you would not be thinking about leaving me, would you ?"

  
"Why would I, my vigurous spring ?"

  
"Loki, I know that you have discovered a way to your origin world in the Misty Mountains."

  
His 'I know' seemed more like 'I think'. But Loki only realised that a moment after Thranduil had already glimpsed his caught out expression. Now he knew. But that was not his concern and Loki would not have constant surveillance on him for it:"I was not thinking about leaving, I just reminisced about my home."

  
"Which home, Loki ? That birthplace you have seen assumably three times at most and never long, if you did not even really talk to your father ? Or that prison you were raised in amongst enemies who loathed you all your life ? Which is more home to you ?!"

  
Thranduil was entirely serious until the moment he saw Loki's defiant stare break down in heartache at his words. But Loki had his own way for dealing with his 'weaknesses'. And the Elvenking jumped back in terror as the dragon's hurt expression changed within the blink of an eye to wrath. The beast roared, shaking all the walls, and his eardrums almost ripped at the clang of two mighty jaws colliding just above his head. The great serpent hissed scathingly at him and coiled its mighty tail in preparation for a devastating blow.

  
Loki was truly a dragon in that moment and Thranduil shivered. In fear and cold, both; he could see his breath clearly in front of him. The ice dragon was truly enraged:

  
"You have no right to belittle what you cannot fathom. Those places have greatly wronged me, yes, Asgard above all; but it is home as it is what I know. This place I have seen not a tenth of and, for all that my magic helps me hide it, I do not even speak any of its tongues. I don't even know what this world is called. So of course, I miss my home ! Any my mother..."

  
"You said they think you dead."

  
"They do. And it leaves me without closure or an explanation. Frigga was my mother and the last she knows of me is that I used the king's weapon against her first-born son and fought him on the bridge between the worlds, until we fell from its broken edge and I let go."

  
"You 'let go' ? You mean.."

  
"Yes, they think I killed myself. I certainly tried."

  
"Why ? Why in all the world would you take your own life ? What was the reason ?"

  
"You wouldn't understand. You know too little of me."

  
"I think I know you well enough."

  
"How could you, when I lied to you ?"

  
That Thranduil had not known about. "What was the lie ? I am not angry, Loki, I see how much it pains you. But please, tell me now."

  
"...I told you that I was hated by the Aesir court, always treated as an outcast. That was entirely true. But it felt worse, for I was no ward among them. I was a prince of Asgard and they degraded and scorned me still, as I could never be worthy of my title by their standards. Magic is for females, for males it is a shame. And worse to lay with another male. I was too thin, a scholar and pale with dark hair. Not Asgardian at all."

  
"But if you really weren't Asgardian..."

  
"But no-one knew ! King Odin, my so-called father, who disregarded unworthy me no less than them, had all believe me his son. He admitted to have taken my abandoned form from Jotunheim only after I had found out. But even then, in my stupid sentimentality, I tried to make it right for him. My idiot 'brother had just unleashed war on our people and I ended it. I ripped their world apart. Or I would have. Thor fought me, he destroyed my weaponised world bridge and he was the hero for it. I was just told 'No'."

  
Thranduil had tears in his eyes at that point, even though the part about ripping his birthworld apart horrified him. But Loki was not done:"My actions did prevent any war from their side. I saved Asgard from my crown prince 'brother' for the hundredth time, but I could never suffice. I realised that, that day. I killed even my Jotunn king father, luring him into a trap and ending him, ending the threat to our people. I gave Odin and Asgard my... all ! But he told me 'No'. I had nothing left then, so I let go."

  
"I actually think that that might be reason enough. But Loki, those actrocities you committed..."

  
"-are crimes, I know. And when I return, I will most certainly be executed for them."

  
"But then you cannot go there !"

  
"But I miss her so... And I feel guilty. She played along Odin's lie, yet her love as mother was true ! She taught me so much and was always there for me. Unlike everyone else. Even though I was not her own, and even when I complained about the child she truly bore, that flesh of her flesh, she still stood with me. I cannot let that be the end. I cannot leave her alone in her grief. I wish there was a way to avoid Odin's revenge to do so, but I must see her under any circumstances."

  
"...Maybe there is."

  
Loki was all ears then. And Thranduil almost had the courage. He had previously given it little thought. Only just noted that it might be an option someday, after a council member had asked him about his plans for Loki, about securing him to the realm and the safety of the people. But in truth, it was the only way to make Loki untouchable to the Allfather's punishments. There was only one state of being in which Loki could enter Asgard and see his mother immune from prosecution. So he gathered all his inner strength and looked into Loki's big red eyes, seeing the hope in them as he breathed two words:

  
"Marry me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil's background is part Tolkien, part added; Did either either his mother or wife even get mentioned in canon, like ever ?  
> I plan for a christmas present, but I think that that will be the onset of the next in the series. Pre-christmas present then ? I'll be back in a couple days. Oh, and that one might contain a bit of a shocker. You have been warned. *(wolfishly grinning at the thought of your faces)*


	21. Final goodbye or forever yours ? - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thranduil have a long talk about various important matters. At last, Mirkood is left behind.

_"Marry me."_

  
"I'm sorry ?"

  
That was not the answer he had been hoping for, but Loki actually seemed more incredulous than aghast and that was a great start, or at least enough to draw out his last reserves of courage:"I am asking you to marry me. Even a king has no right to hunt down and 'punish' the queen of another realm. And even a heartless king would know not to dare such on his most hated enemy, unless he craved war. If Odin still rules after so long, he cannot be so stupid. He will leave you be, if only you accept me."

  
Loki certainly got his logic, now that the initial shock had ceased to block his mind, weeded out with cool, rational calculation. Thranduil could see it in his eyes. But as Loki regained his control, he became impossible to read. That he was thinking, was obvious enough. But about what ? He eyed the Elvenking closely, as if looking for a hidden agenda. But then his eyes drifted out of focus as he weighed his options. But which ? Yes or no ? Or had he already decided and just didn't know how to tell him ?

  
Then Loki righted himself to face him directly. Now he would tell him and Thranduil dreaded the answer. He actually felt urged to bolt before he heard something negative, but he knew that his heart would stop if he missed a positive reply or ruined it. So he calmed himself, somewhat, and expected Loki's reply. For after some pondering, Loki had come to a definite:

  
"I can't marry you."

  
His heart clenched, why not ? Why couldn- Couldn't ? Hestitantly, not yet letting his hope flee prematurely he asked back:"So it's not 'I don't want to', it's 'I can't'; Why can you not ?... You're not married already and just haven't told me, are you ? Please tell you're not !"

  
"I am not married already. I was meant to, but I'm not. The reason, Thranduil, do you not see ? I am pregnant ! If we marry, this bastard wil be born into wedlock and thus be able to claim a place in your line of succession. I never loved them less for it, they are simply who they are, but none of my children has ever been gentle and meek; And this is also a child of Smaug. Trust me, you don't want to dangle a throne in front of its nose, while your son is in its way."

  
That he had not thought about. And even if the child was raised well and without greed, which no-one alive was completely, it would be cruel. Cruel to the son forced to call a beast his brother, to the people that had to accept such as their prince and cruel to the young who was reminded by their faces at his presence every day that he did not belong. It would be as cruel as Odin's treatment of Loki. That he couldn't do.

  
But all that depended on the dragon-child being born into their marriage. "Well, I did not say now. We can wait until after it is born. Your child will always be royal with your blood in it, but that has nothing to do with my throne. You can tell it all about Jotunheim and maybe take it there someday, when it is strong enough to win a throne, should they deny it. But that does not seperate us. If we just wait a little time, we can bind ourserlves together forever."

  
"And if I wait until it is born, then marry you and afterwards go back to Asgard, who will care for my child in my absence ? Your court ? Or should I take an infant to Odin ? My baby is safest in my belly, while my body protects it at all times. And I have not the patience to wait the centuries, if not millenia, until it is grown, while my mother ceases to remember me, as she wilts away with age. Aesir are not truly immortal, you know. To the eyes of humans, perhaps. But she will fade, even quicker in her grief. I cannot wait."

  
"Do you intend to go as dragon, then ? They might not even believe that that is you. Your speech has much improved with your adaption to this body, but not your voice. It is still way too far off from your own, not to mention your face. They wouldn't kn... Loki, they won't recognise you. You don't need immunity, they'll never even know !"

 

-

  
"They... Yes, they probably wouldn't. I could see her, maybe talk to her, about anything unrelated, ask her advice, but no-one would know that it is me. That is brilliant ! But who or what would we say I am, being a dragon and wishing to talk to the queen ?"

  
"Just what you are, my winter. An allied dragon who has fought for us against vicious monsters and defended us at his own cost. You are the mount of the Elvenking, intelligent and loyal, fierce to ensure to the well-being of our people."

  
And Loki smirked at the thought, surprisingly not insulted by only being a mount, but of course, that had a reason:"They know nothing of this world. How about, I am not just a peculiarly friendly beast, but prince of the near-extinct ice dragons and at your side as their embassador since we have fought a mutual enemy in shape the fire dragon King under the Mountain; our alliance between dragons and the triangle of Dale, Erebor and Mirkwood proven again in the war against the orcs of Gundabad, Dol Guldur and the Misty Mountains. That sounds more political and thus realistic to Odin."

  
"I guess so. Yet, my dragon prince, what might be your name, or should I simply call you 'my winter'."

  
"Maybe. But in your tongue. Odin has magic, but mostly through artefacts, and none of those grants him the alltongue. He expects Asgardian spoken in his halls by all visitors. Speaking of which. You'll need a translator."

  
"I suppose that would be you ?"

  
"No. Not a person, an artefact, I mean. You can't depend on me in that. What would you do, if we were seperated ?"

  
"So, could you get one ?"

  
"No, where from ? But maybe I can make one; We are close to Erebor, after all."

  
"Why do you need dwarves ?

  
"Because an artefact is a thing with a spell bound to it and jewels can take and hold spells best, while metal conducts it best. That is the reason, most artefacts are jewellery: rings, bracelts and necklaces. And most of the rest are bejewelled metal weapons. Do you know a better place to get such ?"

  
"Not usually, no... A necklace ? You could put a spell in it ?"

  
"Yes, of course."

  
"Any spell ?"

  
"Most any, yes. The alltongue might, in fact, be best laid into a necklace, close to the speech aparatus and the spinal marrow. But if you would like another, I can add it, if the jewels bear it. Maybe for protection from other magic or to chase thieves away, perhaps just to remain polished and sparkling. Do you have something in mind ?"

  
"Yes. All of that and maybe, is there a return spell, in case it get's lost ?"

  
"Im afraid, that would be too risky, most who tried killed themselves, when the movemoent of matter in an unknown distance took too much energy; however, I could add a signature. The necklace or whatever would give off a kind of almost imperceptable radiation, which I as mage who knows its feel could always scan for. You would need to know magic to find it yourself, but if you asked me, I could always find a thus enchanted possession. This particular piece of jewellery is quite precious to you, I suppose ?"

  
"Above all other possessions I have ever called my own... When could you start your incantation ?"

  
"The moment I see the object."

  
Thranduil turned on the spot and left for his quarters. Loki was actually a bit insulted. One moment he proposed to him, the next he left without so much as an 'Excuse me for a moment, please.' But then, he did say it. Marrying would be practical for them. Nothing more. Hurt, he prepared his spells, so he would be ready, when the king returned.

 

-

  
But he was not prepared for that. The necklace Thranduil brought stole his breath. It shone like the moon, embedded with stars. All the beauty of the night sky. If it were any other's, Loki would have killed to own it. But Thranduil's care for it, those lingering touches, that looked like more.

  
"Who did it belong to ?"

  
"My wife, Legolas' mother. Have you ever loved before ?"

  
"Once."

  
"What happened ?"

  
"Odin ...ended the threat to Asgard."

  
"How was your love a threat to your realm ?"

  
"Our offspring was not exactly Asgardian. In retrospect, he might also have feared that Angrboda would realise what I was. She turned out to be a Frost Giant, as the Aesir call the Jotnar, herself. But her disguise – she was a great shapeshifter, it's how we met – did not trigger my true form. We never saw each other's birth forms. We were... kinky. Well, shapeshifters. It affected our children and that drew Odin. I didn't even know something had happened, until a dead spirit payed me a visit. But let's not talk of that. We have a necklace to enchant."

  
And so he did. The jewels were extremely strong and could hold any spell he wove into it. Thranduil watched avidly, trying to understand the spells, but Loki supressed his own alltongue. He could not have an inexperienced mage try to replicate it. Certainly not his thief-protection, which was basically a curse attacking anyone touching it with ill-will. When he was done, however, he was surprised. Normally he would have been ready to collapse after such tiring magic. Now, he hardly felt sleepy.

  
Perhaps... yes, likely that was due to his dragon body. It not only needed, but also generated far more magic than his normal one. Therefore, that bit of enchanting hardly fell into account. If he ever turned back, he would be so full of energy, he might burst, unless he spent the brunt of it before the shift. So far, however, he did not plan on shifting back. Being a dragon was amazing and even fine spells worked despite his loss of real hands. For indeed, the necklace as an artefact was a masterpiece of magic.

  
Thranduil almost fainted in shock as he dropped a mouthful of gravel and dirt on it, but his spells proved their efficiency. There was a puff and the earth and stones moved in a cloud of dust, that in subsiding unveiled an unscathed and sparklingly polished necklace. The elf was amazed, but didn't want to test it again. Instead he fastened it around his neck and felt a shiver over all his body, as the magic gripped him.

  
"How does it feel, my spring ?"

  
"Wonderful. Truly wonderful, you have outdone yourself, my frosty breeze."

  
Loki snorted at the strange endearment. Thranduil really did make up names for him constantly. Names, good idea. But he needed to do something else before that:"It certainly attracts attention. Do you even hear me now ?"

  
"Yes, I do."

  
"Do you hear me know ?"

  
"Yes, I just said so."

  
"And how about now ?"

  
"Yes ! I hear you ! Are you alright ?"

  
"Yes, now that you have both proven to understand me, although I asked in Asgardian while suppressing my own alltongue, and you have answered likewise, as your attention on me specifically caused yours to activate and change your words, I am perfectly alright. You have to focus on your target to be understood, or the spell won't know what to morph your words into."

  
Now Thranduil was surprised. He had just spoken Asgardian ? He hadn't noticed. What a fascinating tool. But with that, they were – aside from instructing his council on ruling his kingdom in his absence – basically ready to go. But no:"How will I call you there ?"

  
"You call me so many things, my vigurous spring, you tell me."

  
"Hmm. Will the spell translate that, too ?"

  
"Not if you intentionally mean me. Keep in mind that it is a name, not vocabulary, and it will not."

  
"But I might still slip, if I don't focus ?"

  
"Yes. So perhaps something not too obvious."

  
"Yes, preferibly. So no 'mine's or apparent petnames." He could only just keep in his snicker about calling his mount and lover petnames. But that gave him an idea:"It should rather be heroic, but easily understood, yet still you. How about 'Rhîwthûl' ? Most dragon's breath is fire, blazing hot and destructive. But yours is a cold wind to put out fires and a blizzard and sudden freezing, anything you desire at the moment. But it is always you, changing at your will alone, and always winter. Do you accept, my Winterbreath ?"

  
"Yes, I do."

  
Could he not have answered just that earlier ? But he never said he didn't want to, his expression almost hurt as he said that he couldn't. That matter was not done. And after this was over, he was sure to take it up again. Dreamily he gazed over to Loki, his Loki, who just so happened to be staring at him expectantly.

  
"What ?"

  
"Go arrange your absence. We should have been off and about months ago."

  
"You are so impatient."

  
"I am pregnant and would like to spend some time in Asgard before I deliver."

  
"But you still have... How long do you actually carry ?"

  
"I don't know, but likely not forever."

  
"You don't know ? But you should !"

  
"I know !!! But I have never been pregnant as a dragon before, you do not need to remind me that I know nothing about what I'm doing. For the Norn's sake, I don't even know what I carry !"

  
"In what way, what ?"

  
"Just think, dragons are basically reptilian with a bit of magic thrown in. How do reptiles come into existence ?"

  
"I don't tend to watch, but likely when a mother reptile and a father reptile have fun and she lays eggs into some nest. Burried in the sand or earth, usually. Then after some time they h... hatch. You don't know wether you have a baby or an egg inside you !?"

  
But Loki did not answer. He was entirely rigid but for his trembling and stared into the thin air.

  
"What is it ? Loki ?"

  
"You're right. I never even thought of that."

  
"But you brought me to consider eggs."

  
"Not that, Thranduil. What you said."

  
"That reptiles lay eggs ?"

  
"Actually, that **a** reptilian mother lays egg **s**. My spring, that's plural."

  
"What ?" But it was rather an embarrassing squeak than a word. True ! So true. Reptiles, most at least, did not have single children, but up to dozens in one go. "You think you carry more than one ?"

  
"Probably, I guess. I mean, my heat is bound to my Jotunn heritage, so I cannot have more than a Jotunn would have possibly been able to. But more than one ? Most likely. Maybe twins. Maybe triplets. Maybe more. There have been more. But the chances were minute. However, with my dragon-being playing into it... I just really can't tell."

  
"Okay...But you are huge, it cannot risk you, that body was made to hold more."

  
"Certainly, I am like this not remotely as endangered as one of your size would have been, or even a Jotunn. Yet how would your realm handle not only a single dragon-baby, but a litter of them, once they hatch, if they hatch...? I hate, when I don't know something. But it is no matter now."

  
"No matter ?"

  
"I will see Frigga. And she may not be a shape-shifter, but she is the Allmother. I can ask her anything. She always loves to give advice, if there is any hope that it will be listened to, just for the sake of the children. She will help. Once we get there..."

  
Impatient boy, he thought. They would need preparation time in any case. A week, it turned out. He was not absent often, but while no war threatened to break out, he was hardly needed, anyway. That was obviously not his description. He did a lot. He truly did. But most of that could technically also be handled by his council, or certain members of it. For a while at least. If anything truly urgent arose, they could contact him. Loki made sure of it.

  
He drew an ice wall up in front of Thranduil's throne and shaped it into a mirror. Then he enchanted it and laid a single white gem from the full, wooden chest into its top and wove a connection between the mirror and the necklace. If the enchanted ice was knocked upon, he would feel a slight pulse from the necklace. Then Loki could raise a second mirror wherever they were and as soon as Thranduil touched it with the necklace around his neck, the mirrors would connect and switch their reflections.

  
The elves in the thronehall would see Thranduil's reflection in their mirror and Thranduil theirs in his. Loki was especially proud of the switched reflection of sound waves. One had to speak directly into the mirror, right in front of it, but could be heared. Thranduil kissed him right on his scaled snout, when the test proved his word. Apparently he was 'ingenious'. Thranduil had yet to notice the beauty of his scales, but he was getting there, his dragonness no longer any problem.

  
And with that, they were ready. Everything checked and everyone instructed, they threw one last party throughout the kingdom, before they left for their 'diplomatic mission' to another world. The flew high into the Misty Mountains and to the cloud that bore the colours of the rainbow. But he could not contain his worries:"Loki, are you sure about this ?"

"Yes, of course. I have known portals for many centuries."

"Not that. My company."

"Definitely. If I don't bring a biped to vouch for my intent, they will attack me before I can utter a single word and not be deterred by anything. I would be driven away or killed, unless I forcefully subjugated all of Asgard."

"You have come to the conclusion that you need me to come with you."

"Yes."

"But you could also take Thorin or Bard for that."

Silence reigned for a terribly long time, before his love spoke up again:"You are the best choice to face Odin, immortal."

"But you only take me with you, because you need me. I don't want us to be a necessity and I don't think I want to go and take such risks, if I am only a tool."

"Should I return you then ? Now ? After everything ? Tell me, should I fly back to drop you in the forest and ask another for assistance ?"

"If it does not bother you, yes."

..."I did not bring here, just to say goodbye. Why have you reconsidered ?"

"Because I cannot be with you, if it is only by some leverage I hold over you. I don't want to feel like you tolerate me under pressure. I won't come just because you require me."

"But I don't just require you. Thranduil, I don't want to go without you. But I won't choose between you and my mother."

"So y-you want me to come ? Not just need but want me ?"

"Yes, of course ! Come, please come. I can return you, but I ask you not to make me. I want to be with you."

"Now, you do. But we had one fight and you left to sleep with two others not even a few days later."

"I hardly knew you ! Then. You were little more than a bit of fun, back in those days. But surely, you must know how that has changed."

"So you might stay a little longer now ?"

"If my prayers are heard, forever."

And Thranduil felt the truth in that. He would not be left alone, if they fought again. Loki's tightly locked up heart was opened before him to meet his own, bare and raw from his fears of loss. Loki wouldn't run away again. He was at peace and with a whisper of "Forever" they flew into the cloud.

And right into the portal to Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, and merry pre-christmas !  
> I couldn't give the 'happy ending', because it is no ending. But as I hoped to convey saying that both would be possible, they will not leave this series unmarried, just this story.  
> And the mirrors will be used ! Also, just out of curiosity: How did you take the multiple pregnancy ? All expected ? Or shocked ? Really, I want to know if someone saw this comming ! Because, realisticly, crocodiles have a load of eggs, snakes do, even tortoises. And what do you think Loki will do with them (he can't seriosly raise a litter of dragons in a city of elves) ? Just in case, don't worry. I've got a plan. You might even guess it from the titles in 'Coming home and staying ?' I really did give away a lot, posting them so early...


End file.
